


Remember My Name

by Marblez



Series: Tomorrow Will Be Kinder [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It, Forced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:08:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 51,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she had ever wanted was to be noticed, to be remembered. So she Volunteered. After all, wasn't that what people did in her District when they wanted to achieve honour, glory and fame? If only she'd known what the cost would be...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BEFORE

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own the Hunger Games. I’m just borrowing them for a little bit.

 **Warnings:** Violence, Mild Language, Implied Forced Prostitution

**~ REMEMBER MY NAME ~**

**~ BEFORE ~**

She was six years old the first time she realised that her parents didn't want her. Before then she'd been too young to understand why they didn't hold her and cuddle her like all the other mummy's and daddy's did, why they didn't tell her stories before she went to sleep, why they didn't come rushing when she fell over and scraped her knees.

In her childish innocence she’d assumed that everyone's parents were like that.

Only they weren't.

It wasn't until she was ten years old that she finally figured out why her parents didn't want her. She was the youngest of six children and the gap between her and her closest brother was ten years. She had been an "unwanted surprise" for her parents who had already had as many children as they had wanted. Her arrival had been neither planned nor rejoiced, she was simply another mouth to feed and another body to clothe.

Her siblings put up with her but because of the age difference they didn't have much in common, most of them moving out and having families of their own while she was still small to the point where her oldest nephew was only three years younger than she was.

By the time she was eligible for the Reaping, the terrifying annual event which gave her countless nightmares, all of them were too old leaving her to face them alone.

"Hey."

She jumped, her hands clutching at the bottom of her knitted cardigan as she turned to face the older girl who was behind her in the registration line.

"You're up, kid."

Biting her lip she stepped forward and extended her hand as she'd seen all the other girls doing, yelping when the tip of her finger was pricked and her blood was pressed against the page and scanned.

It was official.

She was now registered as a possible participant in the Hunger Games.

"Don't throw up," the older girl who had nudged her ordered sharply once her own registration was finished. "Looks bad for the District."

She had no way of knowing it at the time, terrified out of her mind as she was, but this brief encounter was the catalyst which would end up saving her life.

"I'm Corrida," the older girl offered up her identity calmly, placing a hand against the small of her back and nudging her towards where the other twelve year olds were gathered. "I'm guessing you don't have any older siblings to explain how this works here in Two..."

She did. Five of them, in fact, only they'd never told her anything special about the annual Reaping's and her parents had hardly noticed her presence that morning.

"If a little one like you gets picked you walk up there with your head held high," Corrida had told her with an almost feral grin. "And then, when the time comes, one of us older ones who have been taking part in the after school Career Training Program, or CTP as we call it, will volunteer to go in your place if our instructors have signed us off as ready."

"...you can _learn_ how to win the Hunger Games?"

Corrida laughed deeply.

"You can learn how to fight," the older girl corrected her, reaching out to adjust the collar of her blouse. "That's not quite the same thing but, yeah, if you're good enough I guess you can look at it like leading to survive the Hunger Games. CT's not cheap but it's definitely worth it. You should try and sign up. The earlier you start, the better."

“…thanks…”

~ * ~

Corrida volunteered that year.

She made it to the final three and no one screamed louder than the young girl she had comforted during the Reaping when she was stabbed in the back by the girl from One.

Corrida came home in a box.

Gannicus, the boy who volunteered alongside her, came home a hero.

~ * ~

Having survived her first Reaping she had done as Corrida had suggested and looked into the after school Career Training Program. The older girl hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said it was expensive. Unfortunately in her parent’s eyes it was too expensive.

"Why should we waste money, something which you know we have precious little of, girl, to give you training when none of your siblings had any and they were just fine?"

She didn't want to be just fine.

She wanted to be noticed for once in her pathetic life.

She wanted to have people care about her.

She wanted...

She wanted people to see her.

In the end it wasn't as difficult as she'd expected to sneak into the large room where the CTP took place. As the session commenced she stayed in the background, partially hidden behind some of the equipment and began mimicking the instructions being issued.

She learned how to handle a knife this way, substituting a kitchen blunt knife for a deadly fighting blade. She learned as much of hand to hand as she could without anyone to fight against, going through the motions and imagining what it would feel like to make contact.

She had no idea that her hiding place wasn't as secret as she thought.

The instructors knew she was there.

They'd known from the very first day.

It wasn't the first time someone had tried to follow along with the class without proper instruction, unable to pay the required fee, but usually they gave up after a while.

Six months later she was still there and had been trying to figure out how on earth she was going to practice sword fighting without an opponent when a deep voice startled her.

"What's your name, girl?"

She wished she hadn't yelped. She really wished she hadn't yelped.

The CTP students laughed amongst themselves as she looked up from the stick she had been attempting to practise with in lieu of a real weapon and found herself face to face with one of the older instructors who was standing just outside of her hiding place.

"I...I..." she stuttered, struggling to form words in her panic at being caught as her eyes dropped to the knife he was calmly using to trim his nails. "Buh. I'm called Buh."

"Buh?"

She sighed.

"Yes. Well...” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously as she heard another round of laughter from the students. “…that's what everyone calls me anyway."

"Buh?"

This time she just nodded, perfectly used to this sort of reaction to the name she went by.

Her mother had had no desire to give her a name when she was born so it had been her father’s decision to give her such an old-fashioned name that she had been unable to pronounce properly when she had first been learning to talk. This had led to the accidental creation of the nickname which everyone, family and friends included, used to address her.

"Well, alright then... _Buh_...why don't you come out and join the rest of the class?"

"I can't afford it," she blurted out, her cheeks burning from the embarrassment of being caught out. Her palms began to sweat. "I just...I just wanted to learn..."

"I can see that," the instructor chuckled once more, tossing the knife from one hand to the other. "And you're not the first one to sneak in here without paying. You are the first that stuck to it, however, which is why we've agreed to waive the usual fees. Dedication and determination are two things you need in the CTP but not something which we can teach.”

For a long moment she could only blink up at him, completely stunned, and then the biggest smile ever to grace her face appeared, transforming her from her usually sullen expression into something altogether more striking. There was a clatter as her stick was abandoned.

"Thank you!"

~ * ~

Over the course of the next four years she attended the CTP after school every single day without exception, working alongside the paying students who had only accepted her into their group after she'd proven her worth by quickly becoming one of the star pupils.

She worked hard to pick up every skill, method and trick which was offered to the group rather than specialising in one particular area like the other pupils, studying each one in turn until she was happy with her competency before moving on to the next subject.

It was her desire to be an “all-round-threat” should she ever make it into the Arena rather than just being known for one thing and one thing alone. That had been Corrida’s downfall in the end who, as an archer, had had rather poor skills in regards to close combat.

She made friends, that was inevitable given how much time they spent together, but it was definitely easier to enter into friendship with the other girls in the group than the boys, knowing that she might one day have to face one of them inside the Arena should she ever be brave enough to volunteer whereas she would never be called on to fight the girls.

Not unless they did a repeat of the Second Quarter Quell at least.

And then, the summer she turned sixteen, she was one of the small group of pupils who were signed off as _ready to represent the District_ in the Hunger Games. It was now up to her whether or not she stepped forwards and declared herself a volunteer come the Reaping.

It should have been an easy decision to make but it wasn't and, as she prepared to attend her fourth Reaping, she still hadn't made her mind up about what she was going to do.

Physically she was more than capable, her training had seen to that, but mentally?

She just didn't know.

In the end it was her parents ego helped her make up her mind as to whether or not she would be the one to step forward that year and they did so by simply being themselves.

They weren't there. She washed her body as thoroughly as she could and dressed in her best clothes, combing back her hair and tying it up into a high ponytail and then made her way downstairs only to discover a cold, empty kitchen was waiting for her.

“Mum? Dad?”

A small note lay in the centre of the kitchen table.

_Gone to spend day with Styx and the kids._

Apparently in the eyes of her parents it was more important to spend Reaping Day with their eldest daughter and her children, only one of whom had just become eligible for the Games, than to spend time with their only child still young enough to compete.

It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

It wasn't as though this was something new, this blatant neglect of the daughter they never wanted and could happily do without, but it still hurt her nonetheless.

Well, if that was what they wanted perhaps that was exactly what they would get.

Storming out of the house she vowed to herself that she would never step across its threshold ever again. Whatever happened, whether she made it into the Arena this year or not, she would not be returning to the house where she was so unimportant and unwanted.

Registration passed in a blur as she allowed the fury she felt to bubble below the surface. She took her place with the other sixteen year old girls and stood in complete silence, her back ramrod straight, her fists clenched at her sides and her eyes cold as she watched as the empty stage slowly filled with people; the Mayor and his wife, their Victors and finally Mira.

 **“Welcome!”** Mira, the insipid woman who acted as their District Escort, called out cheerfully, her shrill voice magnified by the powerful microphone which had been provided for her. **“Welcome! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!”**

Unlike everyone else she barely glanced towards the screen as the “Treaty of Treason” was broadcast in all its cinematic glory, her gaze focusing on the bowl of names in front of her.

 **“We shall now select the representatives of District Two who will have the honour of competing in this year’s Annual Hunger Games. Ladies first...”** Mira announced once the film had come to its predictable conclusion, smiling broadly around at the children gathered before her. As the Capitol woman reached into the bowl she prayed silently that her nieces name wouldn't be drawn, not because she was afraid fortune girl but because she didn't want it to look like she was volunteering to save her. **“Diona Pendrill.”**

Her gaze followed the twelve year old girl’s progress as she made her way up onto the stage, her eyes swimming with tears but to her credit she didn't allow them to fall.

 **“Come stand beside me my dear,”** Mira instructed the girl before turning to smile at the crowd once more. She stepped forwards in anticipation of the events which were about to transpire, making her intention known. **“We have now come to the point in today's ceremony where I am required to ask if there is anyone willing to take Diona’s place.”**

“I Volunteer!”

Her clear voice was heard by all and she didn't even wait for the Peacekeepers to make their way towards her before she was striding towards the stage, nodding to little Diona Pendrill as she scurried down the steps. She was crying now but that was alright. It didn't matter how the little girl behaved now that everyone's attention rested solely on her shoulders.

 **“Wonderful!”** Mira exclaimed, attempting to act as though this was a surprising turn of events rather than something that happened every year. **“And what might your name be?”**

It was instinctual to offer everyone watching her a cold smile as she answered confidently, her full name slipping out without hesitation rather than the nickname she was known by.

“Enobaria. Enobaria Hume.”

~ * ~

 **A/N** Don't ask me where the idea for this story came from because I have no idea. I just opened my laptop up one day and started writing. _Buh_ , Enobaria's nickname, is actually the part name we use for my goddaughter but I wanted one that didn't make it immediately obvious who she was. Comments are more than welcome and I'll update as soon as I can. X


	2. 62ND HUNGER GAMES

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own the Hunger Games. I’m just borrowing them for a little bit.

 **Warnings:** Violence, Mild Language, Implied Forced Prostitution

**~ REMEMBER MY NAME ~**

**~ 62ND HUNGER GAMES ~**

It had come as something of a surprise to Enobaria that she could walk so easily in the ridiculous shoes they had given her as part of her costume for the Tribute Parade given that she had never worn high-heels in her life. Perhaps it was because they were, what had her stylist called them, platform boots rather than the delicate shoes she'd seen several of the other Tributes struggling to walk in although the girl from One had had no problem at all.

Unlike some of the other costumes hers covered her body completely and yet still managed to leave very little to the imagination. Her legs and torso were covered in a layer of a black fabric her stylist had referred, someway pompously, to as polyvinyl chloride and it was so tight that they had been forced to cover her body in a fruity smelling substance in order to get her into the sleeveless unitard. Unfortunately the fact that it was so tight and moulded to her body meant that she was not permitted to wear any form of lingerie underneath.

A bronze coloured corset had been used to make her waist seem impossibly small, the laces being tightened to the point where every single breath was something of a struggle. Her breasts, which normally were nothing special to look at, spilled over the top of the corset within the confines of the black fabric and looked remarkably glorious.

The platform boots she was so comfortable in were made in the same bronze colour and had been designed to look like elaborate knee and shin pads, tying in with the equally elaborate shoulder pads and forearm braces which had been added to her costume.

They had darkened her eyes, using a bronze colour to highlight the inner corners just a fraction, had given her three separate layers of false eyelashes to the point where it was a struggled to keep her eyes open and had used a blood red gloss to plump up her lips. Her hair had been slicked back into a ridiculously high ponytail, a simple braid concealing the elastic tie which they had used, and the tips had been spiked out in layers down her back.

Her fellow Tribute was already waiting beside their chariot in his own costume, a male version of hers which left the impressive muscles of his chest completely on display.

“Looking good, Buh!” he laughed deeply as she joined him. He had been one of the few boys who she had allowed herself to get close to and then it was only because he wouldn't let up until she did. “Who knew you were hiding a figure like that under your clothes?”

“Not all of us learn to flaunt what we have at such an early age as you, Vic,” she chuckled in response, allowing him to help her into the chariot. “Didn't you spend a day in just your shorts once just because one of the girls dared to ignore you when you flirted with her?”

Much to everyone's obvious unease the two of them were still laughing together as their chariot began its journey along the Avenue of the Tributes, their well-trained horse the only one who wasn't affected by their obvious affection for one another. Their main audience, the painted people of the Capitol, seemed to love their bright smiles but it was already obvious that the favourite this year was the stunningly beautiful boy from District One.

 **“Welcome!”** President Snow’s voice echoed throughout the large avenue as the last of the chariots came to a halt before him, the crowd immediately going absolutely wild. **“Tributes, we welcome you to our glorious Capitol. We salute your courage and your sacrifice. We wish you all a happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.”**

~ * ~

Sparring with one of the trainers proved to be the most effective way for her to draw the attention she desired, be it in unarmed combat, with a sword, with knives or even once when she took one of them on with an axe. As her Mentors had advised the first day of training had been spent cultivating the alliance between Districts One, Two and Four.

Radiance Wainwright, the favourite to win already with odds of 3-1, was a handsome creature but she had quickly learnt that his biggest weakness was his vanity. He had to look good. If he didn't then he was not, as his District partner Glitter Griffiths had put it once after he'd thrown a tantrum over a spilt drink, _a happy bunny_. Her biggest weakness was her jealous nature, easily noticeable in the way she responded when she wasn't the favourite.

District Four weren't that much a threat this year, or so everyone said, as neither of them could measure up to the epitome of glory that was their Mentor, Finnick Odair. In fact if it weren't for the fact that they'd been all but naked during the Tribute Parade then it was unlikely that anyone would have paid Troy Vinden and Sirena Shelley a blind bit of notice.

Now, however, it was the last day of group training and she was focused solely on capturing the Gamemakers attention and holding it for as long as possible. Her fellow Careers didn't make this easy, each one vying for their attention, but she'd held their gaze more than once.

When she had checked the _Morning Line Odds_ that morning with the help of her Mentor, Lyme, it had come to her attention that her odds had improved, bringing her up into third place in terms of favourite to win with 6-1 odds. Ray, as she had taken to calling Radiance was still in first with his odds of 3-1 and between the two of them sat Vic with 5-1 odds.

The next closest person was Glitter with 9-1 odds which, for some inexplicable reason had made her smile, especially when she noticed that both Troy and Sirena also had 9-1 odds.

She had glanced briefly at the rest of the board, just to get an idea of who the Capitol thought might make it into the final eight, and was unsurprised that they favoured the two from District Seven who had both proven very competent with axes and the boys from Ten and Eleven who were both older and sporting bodies built up with hard labour. What was even less surprising were the ones down at the bottom of the board, the two from District Twelve with odds of 60-1 apiece and the tiny girl from Six who had been given 75-1 odds.

Given that all she'd done throughout training so far was sit in the corner and cry Enobaria would definitely agree with those pathetic odds. At least the two from Twelve had tried.

Training eventually concluded for the day, allowing the various Tributes to return to their floors where their Mentors would help them decide what to showcase in their private sessions the following day. Vic had already decided to spend most of his private session showing of his, admittedly impressive, skills with a sword.

Enobaria was a different matter entirely.

Due to her multitude of skills and her desire to showcase as many as possible during her private training session their discussion became focused on which order would best suit her. She would begin with her knife skills which would lead nicely into her own sword skills. From there she would show off her archery and her staff work before finishing with a display of spear and axe throwing, the latter being a skill she had only perfected the other day.

Vic called her an overachiever.

~ * ~

 **“I'm afraid that a bit of a tough act to follow, Enobaria,”** Caesar chuckled deeply as the two of them settled into the seats which had been provided for the televised interview. He was, of course, referring to the madness which had just surrounded Radiance’s interview, the audience going wild and screaming his name over and over. **“I apologise for that.”**

 **“No need to apologise, Caesar,”** she responded calmly, offering him a calcitonin smile. **“He is, after all, very pretty indeed. Doesn't it make the Games all the more fun to watch when there's a decent bit of eye candy to focus on? I mean have you seen his butt? Phew!”**

A few audience members cheered but it was pretty obvious that they were as thrown by her complimenting a rival Tribute as Caesar, the unmistakable host of the Games, was.

 **“Plus I guess he has to make up for the fact that his skills are somewhat lacking somehow,”** she added, stabbing the imaginary knife in deep as she set about sabotaging his popularity just as she'd been advised to by both of her Mentors during their preparation for her interview. **“I mean, for someone from District One a score of 8 isn't much to shout about is it? Although it could be worse. Look at Glitter with her score of 7.”**

 **“Yes, let's talk about training scores quickly,”** Caesar hurriedly latched onto the subject, desperate to recover the interview which had just taken an unexpected turn. Her attack on District One had been a see less blend of complimentary and pitying, leaving the audience confused as to how they should be feeling. **“How did you manage to get a score of 10?”**

 **“I couldn't settle on just one skill so I went all out with as many as I could,”** she answered with a shrug, the emerald green sequins of her gown catching the light as she moved. **“Vic, sorry, Invictus calls me an overachiever but I don't see that harm in becoming skilled in every option available rather than just limiting yourself to the one you like the best.”**

Vic had been rather envious of her “good fortune” when she'd been awarded the highest training score of the year, leaving him sharing second place with Radiance with his own score of 8. There was no animosity between them, however, and they enjoyed it a great deal when Troy, Sirena, the two from Seven and the boys from Ten and Eleven were all awarded 7’s alongside Glitter making her score seem even more unimpressive.

 **“I don't think there's anything wrong with that at all, do you folks?”** Caesar addressed the audience who dutifully cheered, a few of them actually screaming her name which sent a shiver of excitement up and down her spine. **“So, Enobaria, tell me how do you think your family will have reacted to your achievements so far? They must be very proud.”**

Enobaria was torn.

Should she agree with him and encourage a change in the subject or tell the truth.

 **“I doubt they've even noticed,”** she responded calmly, crossing her legs as much as the long skirt of her gown would allow and in doing so exposing the smooth skin of her ankles and the delicate stiletto heels she had been given to wear. **“I was an unwanted surprise late in life for my parents so they've never really had as much time for me as they have for my siblings. It's one of the reasons I decided to enter the Games. I wanted to be noticed.”**

Just as she'd expected they would the audience lapped up her “sob story” and began cheering for her, praising her for her decision to show her parents what she could do, promising their loyalty and allegiance or generally just calling out their admiration of her.

 **“Well I think you've succeeded there, my dear,”** Caesar chuckled, much more comfortable with this part than he had been earlier. He was definitely a bit of a control freak, was Caesar Flickerman, and she had to resist the urge to tease him. **“Any plans for when you get inside the Arena? Any strategies you can share with us? I promise, we won't tell a soul.”**

She offered him a broad smile.

 **“Oh, my plan is pretty simple really,”** she told him before turning her smile out towards the audience who were anxiously awaiting her response. This was something she had planned with her Mentor. **“I’m going to win and I'll kill anyone who tries to get in my way.”**

Cold, calculating and deadly with a hint of mischievousness. Everything the Capitol adored.

Caesar wrapped up the interview amidst the wild cheering which rivalled the level of adoration they'd shown Radiance only minutes before her and she strode from the stage, offering them a final smile and a wave before slipping into the wings.

The first thing she did once she was out of sight was kick off her ridiculous shoes, abandoning them where they had landed as she scooped up the bottom of her excessively long skirt and held it up out of the way as she joined her Mentors and their Escort.

“So?”

Lyme offered her a truly deadly smile.

“Perfect.”

~ * ~

 

Judging by the amount of layers involved in the outfit she was given to wear inside the Arena she guessed that wherever she was going was going to be cold, or possibly just get cold at night. Her underwear was practical and unattractive, not a single piece of lace in sight, and over this she wore a white thermal vest top and black thermal leggings.

Next she was given a pair of remarkably fitted khaki coloured camouflage trousers with more pockets than she could possibly count, two pairs of thick woollen socks and a tawny coloured pair of hiking boots. She wore one pair of socks pulled up over the bottom of her trousers while the second pair she pulled down over the top of her hiking boots.

“What is _that_?”

Her voice was cold as she reluctantly accepted the next item of clothing from her stylist, glaring down at the white t-shirt cut in a style which she thought was called _peplum_ meaning that whilst the majority of it was suitably tight from the waist down it flared out dramatically into what could only be described as ruffles. _Ruffles_.

“Just put it on.”

Glaring across at her stylist she obeyed, grimacing as she realised just how much of a beacon the white fabric was going to be and how annoying the excess fabric was. Thankfully she was handed a khaki coloured jacket next and she made sure to pull the zipper up as far as it would go, hiding most of the ridiculous shirt beneath. Unfortunately, just like the top, the jacket had been cut in a _peplum_ style and within seconds had already begun to annoy her.

Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, the long black strands hanging down her back.

“There,” her stylist announced as he stepped back. “You're ready.”

She shot him a raised eyebrow in response before moving across to stand in the glass tube without being prompted to, eager to get inside the Arena if only to get away from him and his ridiculous fashion taste. The first this she would be doing once the bloodbath was over and done with would be to find a more suitable shirt and jacket from amongst the dead.

**“Sixty second until launch. Tributes, please enter the tubes.”**

Enobaria found herself trembling, either from fear or just plain nerves, and so spent those last sixty seconds shaking her germs and legs in order to get it out of her system. It wouldn't do for her to be seen trembling when she entered the Arena no matter the reason.

**“Ten second until launch. Tributes, please remain still inside the tubes.”**

Wringing out her hands one last time she stretched out her shoulders quickly before clicking her neck and then settled down to await the launch. Time seemed to drag for those last ten seconds, stretching out impossibly until finally the floor beneath her feet began to move.

Up and up she rose through the tube before suddenly she was blinded by sunlight, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes as they adjusted but holding the rest of her body perfectly still.

She would not be the first Career Tribute to be killed by stepping off the pedestal too early.

Once she could see properly sheet about assessing her surroundings as quickly as possible, conscious of the large number counting down above the horn of the Cornucopia.

It looked as though the Cornucopia had been placed slightly off centre of the large perfectly circular clearing they found themselves in, their pedestals arranged into a semicircle facing the mouth of the horn where all of the weapons and supplies awaited them.

Beyond the circular clearing were trees, hundreds and hundreds of trees in all possible directions and were it not for the fact that the entire Area seemed to be surrounded by impossibly tall cliff faces they could have been described as endless. An enormous waterfall dominated part of the cliff face to her right but other than that she could see no obvious sources of water and guessed that there would be streams leading away from it.

Satisfied with her initial assessment of the Arena she turned her gaze on her fellow Tributes, finding that the female from Nine stood to her left between her and Sirena and the boy from Eight was on her right. Vic was last but one on the left of the semicircle and Glitter was a few pedestals away from him. Troy and Radiance were to the right of her position and separated by the girl from District Twelve who was already weeping, albeit silently.

Unsurprisingly the female Tribute from District Six was already sobbing hysterically where she was stood on the last but one pedestal to the right of the semicircle. It was even less surprising that when the countdown finally concluded she dropped down to her knees rather than sprinting either towards the Cornucopia or the treelike like everyone else.

Enobaria made her first kill of the Games before she'd even picked up a weapon, grabbing the girl from Nine as she sprinted alongside her towards the Cornucopia and snapping her neck in one swift motion, hardly breaking her stride even as the canon sounded loudly.

Seizing the first weapon she came across, a deadly spear, she turned sprinted across towards the girl huddled down on her pedestal, screaming hysterically with her hands pressed over her ears. Two more canons sounded as she made her way towards her target, using the blunt end of the spear to stun the boy from Six who attempted to stop her, before coming to a halt beside the frail girls body and driving the point of the spear into her back.

A canon sounded almost instantaneously as she pierced the girl’s heart, her scream dying instantly as her body slumped down in it’s already hunched over position. Hearing an angry below come from behind her she ripped the spear free of the girls lifeless body and spun, driving it deep into the boys from Six's stomach as he charged at her armed with a knife.

By the time the initial bloodbath was over eight bodies lay on the bloodstained ground, not the worst count for an opening battle but certainly not as impressive as some had been.

Enobaria quickly figured out that she was the only one with multiple kills at this stage of the Games, the other Careers discussing their various kills while she set about stripping the District Eight female of her jacket and t-shirt. She’d been killed by Sirena who, after a surprising fight, had been forced to strangle the girl meaning the clothes were clean.

Vic let out a sharp wolf-whistle as she stripped off her own jacket and shirt from where he was stood over the body of his own victim, the female from District Ten female, and she responded by giving him the middle finger before pulling on her freshly acquired clothing.

“What was wrong with your own clothes?” Glitter complained, pulling her knife from where she had buried it in the girl from District Three’s side. “Or are you just trying to show off?”

“I’m trying to get something more suitable to wear,” Enobaria answered, dropping her old clothes on top of the body at her feet. “I will not spend my time in here wearing _ruffles_.”

So far only one District had been knocked out of the Games, District Eight, who’s Tribute’s had been taken out by Troy and Sirena in almost exactly the same way, although Troy took his down significantly quicker. This in itself was quite remarkable as usually it was district Twelve who was the first one to be knocked out completely but so far only the female Tribute from that particular District had been killed by Radiance in a dramatic blitz attack.

It had been brutal. It had been slow. It had been unnecessarily cruel.

No doubt the vultures in the Capitol had loved it.

~ * ~

As per tradition the first thing they did once they’d set up their camp within the safety of the Cornucopia and its surrounding clearing they left one of them on guard duty, Troy in this particular instance, and went on their first “hunt” of the Games. It wasn’t long before the caught a trail, broken twigs and large footprints leading them to the boy from District Ten.

“Taran, isn’t it?” Radiance sneered as the group, all armed to the teeth, moved to surround the boy who had obviously been wounded during the initial bloodbath and had been forced to make camp as soon as possible, therefore putting him in harm’s way. “How’s the leg?”

“It hasn’t killed me yet.”

Judging by the amount of blood soaking through his makeshift bandage it wouldn’t be long until it did, the wound obviously going far deeper than he could possibly deal with alone.

“Shame…”

Leaning back against one of the trees with her arms folded across her chest, one foot moving up to rest against the rough bark she watched as Radiance advanced on Taran. He was armed with one of the most decorative swords they’d found at the Cornucopia.

Taran was armed with a bowie knife, the thickness of the blade obviously unfamiliar to him as he held it rather awkwardly in front of his trembling body. With his wounded leg making him unbalanced and his unfamiliarity with the only weapon he had this was going to be a short fight which was a shame given the fact that he had had such good odds at the start.

Once again Radiance decided to play with his kill, drawing it out and making it last as long as he could before finally delivering the killing blow. Glitter cheered as though he'd just slain the most dangerous beast she'd ever seen, praising him loudly before rushing forwards to throw herself into his arms, dragging his face down into a seemingly desperate kiss.

Enobaria snorted.

With her less than memorable training score and her mediocre fighting abilities it was pretty predictable that she would resort to making herself out as the “desirable one” in the this year’s Games in a desperate attempt to gain supporters and sponsors.

Well, she was welcome to that particular title. Enobaria didn't want to be desired.

She wanted to be feared. She wanted to be respected. Most importantly she wanted to be remembered and the desirable ones, unless they won by some minor miracle, were always forgotten or set aside as the pathetic sluts who couldn't even sleep their way out of danger.

Someone whimpered softly.

Enobaria held up her hand, calling for silence without making a sound herself and listened out for anything more. A sniffle, quickly followed by a twig breaking came from just behind where Vic was stood, his body appearing just as relaxed as it had been before, only his eyes showing that he too was tracking the sounds Enobaria had picked up on. She nodded slowly.

Without even glancing behind him Vic swung his sword into the centre of the bush, a high pitched scream confirming that he'd hit his target. Pulling out his sword, now stained red with blood he turned his body and leant into the bush, plunging his sword in again and again until eventually he reached down and dragged out the limp body of the girl from Five.

Her canon sounded seconds later.

“It's starting to get dark,” she pointed out as Glitter let out a huff, put out by the fact that she had lost the audience’s attention thanks to his brutal kill. “We should head back and settle in for the night. We can set out on another hunt at first light, see who we can find.”

No one argued with her suggestion although Glitter did continue to grumble all the way back to the clearing, literally hanging off of Radiances arm and complaining that they shouldn't have stolen his moment like that. Radiance for the most part ignored her.

~ * ~

It was Sirena’s turn to stay back and guard the camp, much to the girls obvious annoyance, and the others set off into the surrounding trees taking a different path than they had the night before. This time there were no obvious signs of a trail to follow and so they spent most of the day just meandering their way through the woods, each of them taking turns to act as the point man/woman while the others followed and it wasn't until long past midday when their patience and determination was finally rewarded when they caught sight of two figures attempting to climb the cliff face directly in front of them, obviously struggling.

“Looks like the pair from District Seven,” Troy pointed out as the group quickened their pace, emerging from the trees at the base of the cliff. “Where do they think they're going?”

“Who cares?”

Glitter attempted and failed to kill either of the Tributes with the bow she'd been carrying around with her and so Vic snatched it from her hands, taking aim before they moved out of range and sending an arrow deep into the centre of the boys back. She was not impressed.

“I can do it!” she snarled, snatching back the bow and taking aim at the girl who had obviously started to panic following the demise and subsequent fall of her friend. Glitter shot and missed once more but it seemed that this time it was enough. “Ha!”

The girl from Seven lost her footing and for a long moment simply hung there by her hands, her sobs echoing around them until finally she lost her grip and plummeted to the ground.

It was a disgusting sight. Her body had impacted the ground beside that of her District partners only he'd already been dead when he fell. Her screams had only ended when her head had struck the ground, the skull shattering and bits of blood, brain and skull flying everywhere. A large chunk actually managed to reach Glitter, hitting her in the face.

Predictably she began to scream, rubbing the piece of brain matter off of her cheek.

Enobaria shook her head in disgust.

That girl was _not_ what she would consider to be Career material and was making the rest of them look bad. Radiance wasn't much better, all preening and attention seeking.

The sooner they eliminated everyone else and it became _acceptable_ for them to turn on each other the better as she had plans for the idiotic girl she had been stuck fighting alongside. She doubted that her status as the “desirable one” would help her when she was forced to face off against Enobaria and her various weapons, each one as deadly as the last.

Their only other kill that day was claimed by Troy who spotted girl from District Eleven drinking water from a stream before the rest of them did and launched his trident into her chest from a considerable distance away, killing her before she even knew they were there.

Unfortunately this was also their last kill for the next three, during which they went out hunting but only came across the remains of the boy from District Twelve who had obviously died from exposure sometime between the bloodbath and then.

This lack of kills led to tensions rising between the group, everyone snapping at each other as the blame for not finding any living Tributes was passed from person to person depending on ego had been on point, ego had been tracking or even who had made the most noise that day. Glitter was coming under fire more and more as she was never quiet.

Enobaria was left guarding the camp on their sixth day inside the Arena and was content to sit and sharpen her various blades, occasionally taking a break so as to have a little target practise with the various styles of throwing knifes she'd come across in the supplies.

In the end her practise with her most recently squired skill paid off.

She was treating herself to one of the packs of dried fruit when she heard someone moving about behind her, hurrying across the open clearing and heading straight for the little piles of supplies scattered around their camp. Dropping her snack she spun around in her seat, dropping into a crouch even as her hand moved to fling a knife at the moving target.

It was the boy from District Three. He'd lost a significant amount of weight, obviously having failed to find any food for himself, and had been driven to this desperate attempt at thievery by the hunger in his belly. Her knife ended his hunger forever, his canon echoing loudly around the Arena as she settled herself back into her sets returned to her snack.

To say the others were pissed off when they returned to find a body within their camp was an understatement, every single of them grumbling about how unfair it was that she got a kill without having to go out on a while the hovercraft finally collected the boy’s body.

Enobaria shrugged off their complaints.

“Right place, right time. That's all.”

That night, after only a single face was projected into the sky, the Career Pack splintered before all of the other Tributes had been eliminated for the first time in thirty years.

It was District Four who made the first move, offering to take the first watch of the evening and attacking the others as they settled into their sleeping bags for the evening.

Enobaria had responded immediately, rolling out of the way of the other girl’s blade whilst using the blade she slept with to cut her way out of her sleeping bag. Once free she turned and charged at Sirena, knocking the girl off her feet and pinning her to the ground.

“Bad move, _fish-breath_ …” Enobaria snarled down at the older girl before plunging her knife into Sirena's heart, giving it a violent twist to make hurt even more as the life fled the vibrant green eyes. Her canon echoed loudly in the stillness of the night, followed quickly by another, this one had been for Glitter who hadn't fared as well when Troy had attacked her.

Armed with his trident Troy proved exactly why he had been awarded a training score of seven, wielding the odd weapon with a level of skill that could only have come from years of practise and actually managing to hold off both Radiance and Vic, wounding the later of the two in the thigh moments before Enobaria joined the fight and sealed his fate.

She set about distracting him alongside the grunting Vic while Radiance went in for the kill, plunging his sword into Troy’s side while she and Vic pinned his trident to the ground.

He died with a furious snarl on his lips.

“Fuck…” Vic gasped as the third canon of the evening sounded, dropping his sword as he collapsed to the ground, his hands moving to press at the wound to his thigh. It was gushing an alarming amount of thick red blood and Enobaria knew at a glance he was dead. “Fuck…”

Troy’s deadly blade had severed his artery and, no matter what they did or how many bandages they pressed against the wound the blood continued to flow and flow until, less than half an hour after he'd been injured in the fight he closed his eyes and fell silent.

His canon sounded seconds later.

“We should split up,” Enobaria murmured as she and Radiance moved away from the Cornucopia so that the bodies could be collected by the hovercraft. “We can't be a Career Pack of two, Ray, our alliance isn't strong enough. It's better for us to separate now and hunt down the rest of the Tributes on our own. That way we won't have become emotionally attached when it comes down to just the two of us at the end of this thing.”

“You seem pretty confident it's going to come down to me and you…”

“Aren't you? I mean, think about who else is left,” she muttered, already making her way back to the camp to fill a rucksack with the supplies she would need. “District Five and District Nine males, neither of which are anything special and the boy from District Eleven. He's the biggest threat but he's no match for either of us. He's strong, yes, but he's slow. So unless something really hinky happens this year is going to come down to me and you.”

Of course the only thing that he picked out from her logical explanation was…

“ _Hinky_?”

“Wrong. Weird. Not right,” she listed off the slang terms meanings as she pulled the rucksack onto her back and began arming herself with some of the various weapons. “I'm going to go hunting. You can stay here if you want, I've taken everything I'm going to need.”

Radiance chuckled.

“You know, I'm kind of glad it's come down to you and me,” he admitted as she started to leave the camp, pausing to frown across at him. “At least you'll be a worthy opponent.”

Her frown transformed into a smirk.

“You too. See you at the finale, RayRay.”

“My name is Radiance, not Ray or RayRay!” he snapped, laughing after her as she hurried into the woods. “I'd appreciate it if you could make it all the way to the end!”

Her only response was to laugh as she broke into a run, disappearing into the trees.

~ * ~

Being on her own wasn't as unpleasant as she had been expecting it to be, after all she'd grown up used to being left on her own despite her large family. This wasn't all that different, really, only she was hunting people who could possibly be hunting her right back.

It should have made her paranoid.

It didn't.

She was confident in her abilities and of her opponent’s lack of abilities that she would be able to handle whatever they threw at her, literally and figuratively. Her main worry, now that she was alone, was that the Gamemakers would choose now to begin interfering.

It never ended well when the Gamemakers started interfering to get their desired outcome.

~ * ~

She came across the remains of a fire literally just as she was planning to stop for a quick bite to eat, the midday sun glaring down upon her through the gaps in the trees. It had long since been abandoned but they were painfully obvious tracks leading away from it.

Smirking she ate a quick power bar from the selection she'd packed into her rucksack and began following the trail, moving almost silently through the woods until she finally caught up with her slow moving target sometime in the middle of the afternoon.

It was the boy from District Nine.

He, like the boy from District Three, was obviously suffering from lack of food. His bones were beginning to protrude from underneath his skin which appeared to be painfully dry, cracking around his lips and the corners of his eyes and his entire body was shaking.

It was pretty obvious that every single step was a challenge.

Shaking her head she drew one of her throwing knifes and, with a simple flick of her wrist, launched it across the space between them to bury itself in his back. He crumpled to the floor with a stubbed grunt of pain, his body twitching uncontrollably and then he was still.

For him a quick death from her blade had been a mercy.

His canon sounded and then, almost as though it echoed, another canon sounded.

It wasn't until much later when she had found a good spot to spend the night, in the hollowed out trunk of a tree, that she discovered that the second canon had been for the young boy from District Five although there was no way of knowing who had killed him.

Keeping her knife held tightly in her dominant had she settled in for the night, allowing her eyes to flutter closed as the _Horn of Plenty_ , the National Anthem, finished playing. Come the morning it would be a fight between herself, Radiance and the boy from District Eleven who's name she didn't know and didn't care to know, preferring the anonymity of her kills.

She was woken not by the sun and not by an attack, as she had somewhat expected, but by the whole world beginning to shake around her almost uncontrollably. Scrambling out of her hiding place she gasped in shock as she discovered just what was happening.

The walls of the cliff faces surrounding the edge of the Arena were disintegrating, crumbling for no apparent reason and sending huge chunks of rock down into the trees below. She abandoned her rucksack, saving only her weapons as she took off as fast as her feet could carry her, heading for the only place she knew would be safe from the falling rocks.

The Cornucopia.

This had the finale written all over it, the Gamemakers interfering just as she had feared they would so as to get the dramatic ending everyone wanted to watch. Her legs began to burn from the strain she was putting them under but still she ran, dodging trees and falling rocks alike as she advanced on her destination as quickly as was physically possible.

A canon startled her so much she almost stumbled but just caught herself in time.

Who had it been for?

There was only one way of knowing.

On and on she ran until she tumbled out of the trees into the open space of the clearing, not a single rock having landed inside the circular area, and she was unsurprised to see Radiance stumble out of the trees on the other side of the clearing. Judging by the smirk that replaced his exhausted expression he wasn't surprised to see her either, in spite of the canon.

“Radiance.”

“Enobaria.”

They faced off against each other, both panting as they struggled to regain their breath, and then as one they began to move towards each other. Radiance threw his rucksack away, leaving him as unencumbered as her and together they pulled out the first of their weapons.

“Time to give the people what they want.”

~ * ~

Her first move as they sprinted towards each other over the short distance was to fling two of her throwing knives at him as hard as she could, each one aimed at the centre of his chest but unfortunately he used the blade of his swore to knock them away from him both times.

Ducking at the last second to avoid the downwards swing of his sword she tucked and rolled, jumping up to her feet directly behind him and slashing his exposed back with the throwing knife she'd had ready to go in her hand, drawing the first blood of their fight.

“Fuck!”

Spinning to face her he brought his sword up once more and charged after her as she darted backwards, flinging two more knives at him which, annoyingly, were deflected just like the earlier ones had been, ricocheting off of his sword and disappearing from view.

Knowing that she had to change tactics she pulled the twin axes from the back of her belt and crossed them in front of her, catching his blade on the next downward swing and locking it in place with a simple twist of the axe heads. Their bodies were less than a foot apart and, acting on instinct, she used a simple move to sweep his legs out from under him.

He crashed down to the ground, losing his grip on his sword as he fell. Unfortunately he chose, just as she would have done, to completely abandon the weapon and drew a knife from his boot which he plunged unceremoniously into her thigh as she tried to step back.

Screaming in pain she twisted her body so that when she fell she fell away from him.

She'd never felt anything like it in her life.

The pain was almost paralysing, coursing up and down her leg with every beat of her heart. Looking down at the wound, her hand moving to press down on the skin around the knife still buried to the hilt in her flesh, she made a quick assumes sent and realised that she'd die quicker if she pulled it out than if she left it in and just dealt with the pain it caused.

Brilliant.

In the time it had taken her to come to his decision Radiance had rolled over and grabbed hold of his sword, taking the time to grab his second sword from his belt so that when he charged at her with a loud battle cry he was now doubly armed.

Scrabbling around on the ground around her for any type of weapon she found the handle of one of her aces and, without hesitating, launching it towards his advancing body with as much force as she could put behind it. Her aim was off but this proved to be a good thing. He obviously expected her to aim for his heart again and brought his swords up accordingly.

What she actually managed to hit was his forearm, just underneath his elbow, taking a chunk out of his flesh before the axe continued on its path into thin air. Now it was his turn to scream in pain, dropping one sword so as to apply pressure to the deep wound.

Gritting her teeth against the pain she searched around for her other axe, grabbing its handle and pulling it towards her, before she spotted a sword resting on the ground to her left. Perfect. Reaching out with her other hand she grabbed it by its plain hilt, using it initially as a crutch as she pulled herself to her feet, before facing off against her opponent.

“Didn't take you for an axe type of girl...” Radiance panted as he reached down to grab the sword he'd dropped after wiping the blood from his hand. The two of them paused, facing off against each other as they caught their breath. “That's a bit Seven, don't you think?”

She smirked.

“It worked, didn't it?”

She moved first this time.

Ducking under his initial response to her attack she parried the second blade with her own sword while swiping her axe across his stomach, leaving behind a long gash. His response was the slice deep into her shoulder with his free sword as he pulled away from her, spinning on the spot before swinging both of his swords towards her head and neck.

Blocking his attack with her sword and the long handle of her axe she brought her leg up to kick at the wound she had just given him, sending him struggling back with a pained grunt.

It continued this way for what felt like hours to the two combatants.

One of them would attack.

The other would defend themselves.

Blood was drawn.

More blood was drawn.

But neither of them could get the upper hand enough to deliver a fatal blow.

Eventually she managed to wound his left arm enough with her axe to make using his sword impossible but at the same time, mostly down to exhaustion on both their parts, he succeeded in knocking her own sword out of her hand by smashing the hilt of his sword into her write with enough force the break it leaving her with nothing but her bloodstained axe.

“I'm starting to understand why you got a 10…”

“I'm starting to wonder why you only got an 8…”

Grinning towards each other Radiance wiped the back of his hand across his glistening forehead before putting an end to their brief respite by charging towards her with what appeared to be the last of his strength, knocking her axe out of the way before using his body weight and momentum to knock her to the ground. She cried out as her head connected painfully with the hard ground beneath her even as she was pinned down, their limbs becoming entangled in such a way that it was impossible for him to use his sword.

She panicked.

She would never deny the fact that in that moment, completely pinned down and unarmed, she panicked and react purely on instinct as her fear of dying overrode everything else.

Tensing her stomach muscles she brought her head and shoulders up off the ground as far as they could go and sunk her teeth into the only vulnerable piece of flesh she could reach.

His neck.

Blood flooded into her mouth and down her chin as her teeth tore through his flesh, her jaw beginning to ache as he thrashed on top of her, letting out a horrific scream when he finally pulled himself of her body only to have her take a huge chunk of flesh out of his neck.

Gagging she rolled onto her side and spat out what had come away in her mouth, retching uncontrollably for a long moment before she turned to find him lying on his back a little way away from her, legs thrashing ever so slightly as he pressed his hands against his neck.

Withdrawing her final weapon, a dagger which had been hidden inside her boot she crawled over to him and knelt beside him, resting her hands against her thighs as she stared down at his terrified expression and the blood flowing continuously from between his fingers.

Moving slowly so as to make her intentions perfectly clear she brought the dagger up and pressed its point against his chest, directly over his heart. Yes, his life would have to end for hers to continue, that was how the Hunger Games worked after all, but there was no longer any need to make him suffer like this. She could give him the quick death he deserved.

“You did your District proud, Ray,” she murmured softly as his breathing hitched, his eyes going wide as he choked on his own blood. She reached out with her free hand, ignoring the pain of her broken wrist, and cupped his cheek gently. “Be at peace, my worthy opponent.”

Sliding the double edged blade deep into his chest she had only seconds to wait before she saw the life drain out of his frightened gaze, his cannon booming to confirm his death.

**“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 62nd Annual Hunger Games.”**

She had done it.

A sob bubbled out of her mouth as she crawled away from Radiance’s body, eventually climbing to her feet and looking up at the clear sky above her. And then she began to laugh.

She had done it!

~ * ~

At the time she had no idea what sort of an image she had presented to the citizens of the Capitol and the people of Panem in that particular moment, her moment of victory.

She hadn't considered what sort of an impression it would leave on them.

All she had felt was relief.

She had done what she had set out to.

She had fought her way to victory and now she would be noticed, forever remembered.

If she'd had any idea what the future would hold for her she would have reacted differently.

If she'd known how people would fall in love with the image of a young woman laughing up towards the camera, showing off her bloodstained teeth in all their glory even as blood continued to drip from her chin onto her soiled clothes she would have curled up in a ball and sobbed her heart out until they'd sent the hovercraft in to collect her from the Arena.

If only she had known.

~ * ~

Stepping out onto the stage amidst the wild cheering and rapturous applause Enobaria's had to force herself to remember Lyme’s hasty instructions following her “special surgery” following the Games and, although she did smile, she kept her teeth hidden.

She hadn't been impressed to wake up in the Remake Centre following her retrieval from the Arena to find that, while they had treated her wounds to the point where you couldn't even tell she'd been injured at all, they had also taken the liberty of “enhancing” her body. Apparently this was a common practise, at least the breast enlargements were, but even Lyme and Brutus had been surprised by the work which had been done to her teeth.

They had explained to her that there was nothing she could do.

The life of a Victor was decided by the Capitol and if the Capitol had decided that this was how she was to be celebrated then she would grit her teeth, as best could, and deal with it.

Caesar greeted her warmly, complementing the outfit they'd put her in and guiding her to her chairs end as he moved on to introducing each of the members of her winning team.

He began with her stylist who's name she'd only learned earlier that day was Kynthia who positively preened under the praise she received for Enobaria's “adaptable” wardrobe before moving on to introducing the various members of her prep team. Hestia was the women who had had almost ripped her hair from her scalp. Syrio was the young man whose hands had been as cold as ice as he'd washed down her body. Clio was unremarkable.

They too took great pleasure in the compliments he laid upon them for their work.

When he introduced Mira, their District Escort, she could have sworn that the stupid woman was pretending to be overcome with emotion, blithering on about how proud she was.

Lastly he introduced Lyme as he Mentor and the older woman received almost as much cheering as applause as she herself did, offering the audience a smile and a wave before taking her seat beside Brutus with all of the other Victors who had been brought out to attend her final interview and the crowning ceremony. Not a single one of them showed anything more than polite interest in the events happening around them, not even Brutus.

She pinched her thighs through the layers of her dress as the recap played so as not to show an ounce of emotion as each death was repeated in minute detail. It hadn't affected her when she'd been inside the Arena but as soon as she'd thought about it in the safety of the remake centre she'd had to sprint for the nearest toilet as she lost control of her stomach.

They showed her final battle with Radiance three times from three different angles during which time Caesar read out the “official analysis” of the fight. Apparently her skills had continued to impress throughout the fight but it was her penultimate move that they had been most impressed with, her use of a weapon no one had considered before marking her out as “something special” in the eyes of Capitol citizens and Gamemakers alike.

 **“I think this is why I'm so in love with your dress this evening,”** Caesar admitted once the recap was finally over, smiling across at her as he gestured to her dress once more. **“It must have taken some skilled work to alter it so quickly so as to highlight your special skill.”**

Her special skill?

That was what he was going to call ripping someone's throat out with her teeth?

Instead of reacting how she really, really wanted to she only offered him a teeth less smile once more before nodding and spans wearing, being careful not to move her lips too much.

**“Oh, yes, it's very clever isn't it?”**

To be honest the dress itself was nothing special.

It was a white knee length dress with a tight bodice, a high neckline and lace sleeves with the skirt being made out of multiple fabrics sewn into multiple layers to create volume. What made it “special” was the extra layer of lace which had been added over the top, a transparent layer covered in blood red tear drops cascading down from a large “bloodstain” at the top around the high neckline, following the contours of her enhanced breasts.

She had hated it the moment she had seen it on the hanger.

Now that she was wearing it she couldn't wait to rip it off of her body at which point she would set fire to the horrific things which the audience were going wild for.

Finally it seemed as though Caesar was bringing the interview to a close and she shop a quick look over at Lyme who nodded, instructing her to continue as they had planned.

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen,”** Caesar addressed the audience, taking her hand and encouraging her to stand beside him. She offered the host another closed lip smile as he squeeze her hand. **“I give you this year’s glorious Victor of the 62nd Annual Hunger Games. Enobaria!”**

It didn't escape her notice that they'd dropped her last name.

She paid it no heed however.

She was far too busy watching the audience lose their collective minds as she finally offered them a true smile, baring her surgically altered teeth for all of them to see.

Her incisors and premolars had been filed down into sharp points like her canines.

It was horrific. Not to mention it was annoying, her lips and tongue suffering as she was forced to adapt the way she spoke, the way she ate her food and or simply lived her life.

She hated them.

So of course the Capitol, who had altered them in the first place, would love them.

~ * ~

“Congratulations.”

Standing this close to the most powerful man in existence Enobaria felt a chill of fear, more potent and more deadly than anything she had felt inside the Arena, run down her spine.

Standing this close also allowed her to smell something which had become painfully familiar over the last few days. It was the scent of blood and it was coming from him. She struggled to maintain her composure as he lifted the golden crown from its cushion and placed it on her head, his fingers moving her loose hair so that it sat as he wanted it to around her face.

“I must say I was very pleased with your performance in this year’s Games, my dear.”

She blinked.

“Thank you…” she forced herself to answer, almost gagging on the words as her mind forced her to remember the way the blood had felt and tasted in her mouth. “I did my best.”

“That you did, my dear, that you did,” he agreed with a smile that was every bit as fake as hers was at that moment but entirely more terrifying. There was just something about him that filled her with dread. “I look forward to seeing much more of you in the future.”

~ * ~

 **A/N** Well that was interesting to write and very difficult to keep track of. I kid you normalising this part of the story was the most complicated of the lot. I had to draw a map and figures out who killed who and it what order and thick it off as I came to it. Seriously, it was complicated. Lol. I now have a new respect for Suzanne Collins for writing the originals. Comments/Suggestions are so welcome I'd almost say they were encouraged. Lol. X


	3. BETWEEN

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own the Hunger Games. I’m just borrowing them for a little bit.

 **Warnings:** Violence, Mild Language, Implied Forced Prostitution

**~ REMEMBER MY NAME ~**

**~ BETWEEN ~**

As had become her habit in the months following her return from the Capitol she rose late in the day, pulling on a delicate robe over the top of her silk negligée, and made her way down to the kitchen of her lonely mansion to prepare herself something to eat and drink.

Her parents hadn't been there to greet her when she'd emerged from the train.

Her siblings had been, crowding around her with the rest of their own families in a poor imitation of excitement, their stilted words and fake smiles confirming the fact that they had been forced to attend the celebration in her honour. Only her various nieces and nephews were genuinely happy to see her, proclaiming that all of their friends were jealous of their connection to her and asking if she could teach them “that cool knife trick” some time.

Having caught the look of panic her much older siblings had shared in that instant she'd smirked, offered the children so close to her in age a deadly smile and promised to do so.

Unsurprisingly she hadn't heard from any of them since that day.

When she'd visited her childhood home to pick up her personal belongings she'd found them dumped on the doorstep in a cardboard box with her name scribbled on the side.

Fine, she'd thought to herself as she'd calmly picked up the box after checking that everything she'd wanted was inside it, if that was how they wanted things to be so be it.

She'd walked away with her head held high and heard, through the various gossips in town, that her parents and siblings had been all but ostracised by everyone who knew them because of their treatment of her, the people rallying behind their first Victor in a decade.

Finishing up her late breakfast she made herself a large mug of hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and marshmallows courtesy of some of her fans in the Capitol, and made her way into the living room where she settled down onto the comfortable sofa and switched on the holo-projector to a relaxing music channel. This had also become one of her habits, particularly if she'd had a bad night where her dreams were plagued with vivid memories of her time spent inside the Arena, often warped into something far worse.

She was still snuggled down on the sofa, her empty mug placed on the ground beside her, when the guests she'd been expecting burst through the front door without knocking.

“Enobaria?”

“In here.”

Mira was the first to enter the room, struggling to walk on her ridiculous heels and dressed in something which made her look like some sort of sea creature, a mess of blue and purple. Kynthia followed, looking equally ridiculous in her black dress with puffed sleeves and a wig so blue it made her eyes hurt just to look at it, the colour matching her shoes and jewellery.

“You're not dressed!”

Rolling her eyes as her prep team hurried into the room, each dressed in a different colour of the rainbow in truly unflattering styles which suited none of them she pulled herself up her feet, scooped her mug up off of the floor and headed into the kitchen. She didn't need to look back to know they were following her, their unsteady footsteps echoing loudly.

“And when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

Ignoring the group working themselves up into a panic she washed her mug up in the sink, setting it on the rack to dry, before picking up an apple and taking a loud bite. Her deadly teeth made it easy to rip out a large chunk of the fruit, juice flooding down her chin and staining the front of her negligée just as she'd hope it would. Hestia whimpered loudly.

“I hope you haven't forgotten what today is, young lady?”

Enobaria snorted.

“How could I forget?” she asked, pausing to take another large bite out of the apple and continuing to talk with her mouth full just so as to annoy them. “Victory Tour is a pretty big deal, after all, and I've been working extra hard on my talent just like you said I should.”

Mira frowned.

“Which talent did you decide to go with in the end?”

She had been having trouble with Mira since returning home from the Games, the insipid woman calling her house every couple of days to remind her how important it was that she behave properly as a Victor should. Enobaria was sick and tired of being lectured about proper etiquette, about suitable manners, about appropriate outfits. She wasn't some puppet on a string that Mira could control and she was determined to make the idiotic woman, and those who agreed with her, understand that she wouldn’t be controlled.

“Singing,” she answered once she'd swallowed her latest mouthful, offering them a smile which showed each and every one of her teeth. “Best way to show off these beauties.”

It had been Brutus who had pointed out that no matter what she did they were going to want to see her teeth at every available opportunity and had suggested that her talent should be something that catered for this so as to get their fascination over and done with.

For once Mira seemed at a loss of what to say.

“Right…well…” Kynthia spoke up almost nervously, her own eyes flickering between Enobaria’s teeth and the deep gouges in the apple she held. “Let's get you ready for the cameras. Your wardrobe for the Tour has already been organised and is waiting for you on the train. I've done something special for your home District as well at the Capitol.”

She genuinely dreaded to think what the woman meant by something special.

“Great…” she muttered, tossing the remains of the apple into Mira’s glove covered hands before leading her stylist and prep team up the sweeping staircase and into her bedroom. Once again they frowned at the mess they found, her clothes strewn about carelessly rather than put away neatly in the closet. “Come on, then, let's get this over and done with.”

~ * ~

As far as Victory Tours went, according to Lyme anyway, hers was uneventful but in a good way. Each of the Districts behaved themselves, smiling and cheering for the camera despite that face that in six instances she'd been the one eliminate one if not both of their Tributes. She’d stuck to her script despite how ridiculous and repetitive it was and had smiled in the right places, particularly when the cameras were focused on her meeting the other Victors.

She could tell people were afraid of her, though. It was in their eyes.

~ * ~

Stepping off of the train, dressed in a sleek pair of black trousers and blue silk blouse, she greeted the brightly coloured crowd with what was becoming a practised set of moves.

A gentle wave that wouldn't tire her arm. A teasing smile that just showed the points of her teeth. And then finally an apologetic shrug, an equally apologetic smile and a farewell wave.

“You're a natural,” Lyme hummed as they were escorted to the car which would transport them to the Training Centre where they'd get ready for the day's events. “Just remember…”

“My behaviour reflects back on the whole District,” she murmured, repeating the words that the older Victor had used countless times during the Tour. It would have been annoying, like Mira's pestering was, had Lyme not come across as completely genuine. “Has that ever happened? A District bring punished for the behaviour of their Victor.”

Lyme snorted.

“Did you or did you not see District Twelve?” she asked softly, reclining back in her seat and crossing one of her long legs over the other. Enobaria winced. Of all the Districts she'd visited on the Tour it had been the first one they'd visited that had really stayed with her, the malnourished population with their skin and clothes stained black from the coal dust and the haunted looks in their eyes. “Haymitch Abernathy has never been what you could call a proper Victor and so his District doesn't always get the help it so obviously needs.”

Abruptly the car turned and began heading away from the Training Centre.

Lyme frowned deeply, peering out of the window for a long moment until suddenly a look of realisation appeared on her face followed by one of deep sadness. Her eyes flicked across to Enobaria and if anything the sadness grew but she said nothing, not even when the younger Victor leaned forwards to look out the window for herself to see where they were going.

“Oh…”

She felt her eyes going wide as they pulled up outside of what was unmistakably the Presidential Mansion several hours earlier than she'd been anticipating, the party not set to take place until that evening. Turning she frowned across at her Mentor in confusion.

“What's going on?” she asked softly. “I thought we were going to the Training Centre first?”

Before Lyme could attempt to answer her question the car came to an abrupt stop and the door nearest Enobaria was opened from the outside, a hand reaching in to help her out without a single word being said. She was left with no choice but to accept the help and all too soon she was being led up the marble steps and into the imposingly grand building.

Glancing back over her shoulder confirmed her fear that Lyme wasn't following her.

She was led further and further into the building, passing men and women in various uniforms and grand outfits who smiled towards her and then suddenly they came to an abrupt halt in front of a decorative wooden door, her escort reaching out to knock loudly.

“Enter!”

~ * ~

There were numerous occasions later in her life where she wished she could forget every single word that had been said during her second meeting with President Coriolanus Snow, wished she could forget the way his gaze had lingered upon certain parts of her body as he'd described in derail the “special duties” which were required of each and every Victor.

Wished she could forget the way he'd warned her of the consequences of “misbehaviour” and how he'd then proceeded to laugh and advise her to be particularly careful with her teeth once she, shocked into complete and utter silence, had managed to nod slowly.

Unfortunately she couldn't and that private meeting became yet another feature of her nightmares over the years, her mind twisting the things that were said and the things that were done into even worse scenarios, her subsequent experience performing her “special duties” providing multiple different endings to the already twisted scenario.

In reality he'd congratulated her on a wise choice and sent her off to get ready for her party.

~ * ~

She couldn't remember her interview with Caesar.

It wasn't until she watched it back years later that she realised how pale she'd looked, how stilted her answers had been (although the fact that she'd spoken at all was a miracle) and how Caesar had been working incredibly hard to the keep the interview flowing properly.

Her memory of the extravagant party was equally as hazy.

She could remember being introduced to countless people, could remember wondering each and every time if she would one day have to spend time with them under different circumstances but she couldn't remember what they talked about or even what music was playing. The only reason she'd eaten or drunk anything at all was because of Lyme.

Her memory of her journey back to District Two consisted of one singular moment where Lyme had confirmed that yes, she'd known what would be asked of her, that it was asked of all of them and that only the most foolish amongst them attempted to refuse him.

“I still don't understand why they would want us to…”

“It's about control,” Lyme had answered simply, her own eyes haunted. “The Hunger Games are a way to control the ordinary population. Our…special duties...are a way to control us.”

~ * ~

Lyme and the others tried to prepare her as best they could for what was going to happen to her when she was summoned to the Capitol for the duration of the 63rd Hunger Games.

No preparation could ever have been enough.

~ * ~

Her life became something of a twisted routine after that first month spent in the Capitol, her ‘summons’ arriving like clockwork on Reaping Day every year. She travelled with the Tributes and their mentors on the train but she always ensured to keep out if their way.

Some years she was free to return home as soon as the Games were over, packing her bags before the final canon had even finished echoing through the Arena and heading out as soon as the crowning ceremony had concluded. Other years she was forced to stay longer, entertaining her “friends” until the preparations for that years Victory Tour began.

At home her time was split between lounging around her empty house reading the hundreds of books she ordered from the Capitol or walking around the District.

Sometimes she stopped by the school in order to watch the CTP students in training, something several of the Victors did every now and then, and found herself wondering which one of them would be the one to take her place as the _favourite_ , thus freeing her from the Capitols clutches just as she had inadvertently freed Gannicus. Oh, he was still called on to “entertain” in the Capitol but it was nowhere near as bad as it had once been.

Her family still refused to have anything to do with her.

~ * ~

 **“It was announced earlier today that Lyme would be stepping down as the female Mentor for District Two and, after a moment of speculation, it was then announced that her place would be taken by our favourite sharp-toothed girl, Enobaria!”** Caesar announced, gesturing grandly towards the edge of the stage and the camera panned suddenly to show Enobaria striding out onto the stage dressed in a combination of black and red leather. **“Congratulations, Enobaria, you must be so excited to take up the mantle of Mentor!”**

Watching the pre-recorded interview from the safety of her living room the Victor in question couldn't help but grimace as she remembered exactly what had happened next.

 **“Oh, yes,”** her image breathed on the screen, tucking her hair behind her ears as the light reflected spectacularly off of her teeth. **“I'm very excited indeed, Caesar, not to mention honoured to have been chosen to represent my District in such an important role.”**

She'd been summoned to the Capitol for a “special appearance” following the announcement of that years Games where upon arrival she'd been whisked off to the remake centre where once again her body had been surgically altered without her consent.

 **“Are you planning anything special to celebrate?”** Caesar asked excitedly on the screen, bouncing in his seat like a child. **“Can we expect to see you out on the town tonight?”**

 **“I'm afraid not, Caesar,”** her image apologised on the screen and she was amazed to hear how genuinely apologetic she'd sounded. During some of her early interviews it had been painfully obvious that she'd been following a pre-determined script but now it almost seemed like just a normal conversation. **“Although I did have a little splurge to celebrate…”**

She all but drained her glass of wine as Caesar eagerly pressed her for more information, watching as she offered him what could only be described as a feral mail and in doing so showed off her newly gold plated teeth to the cameras, prompting the audience to go wild.

Once the interview had finished airing they cut live to the Capitol in order to capture people's immediate responses, an excitable reporter rushing around the crowd with a camera and a microphone. The response was unanimously in favour of both the decision and “fresh work” she'd had done, a couple of her _regulars_ actually appearing on camera and stating fir everyone to hear that they were looking forward to spending time with her again.

So much for her plan to use her new duties as an excuse to pull back from the _circuit_ …

~ * ~

It had looked so promising for them, both of their Tributes making it to the final four, but then something or rather nothing had happened. No matter what the Gamemakers tried the final four Tributes (Rhaskos Trent and Ilythia Harrison of District Two, Annie Cresta of District Four and Leif Thompson of District Seven) refused to be manoeuvred together.

After four days of nothing happening the Gamemakers had triggered an earthquake which had itself triggered a horrific flood, a wall of water wiping away everything in its path until eventually it came down to which Tribute could stay afloat the longest in the freezing water.

Leif drowned first, followed closely by Rhaskos and Ilythia eventually froze to death.

This left Annie Cresta, the girl from Four who had suffered a mental breakdown after witnessing the brutal death of her District partner, to be crowned that years Victor.

In the words of Caesar it was a very disappointing year.

~ * ~

When she'd first seen the image of the snivelling girl on the screen she'd written her off in her mind, just like everyone else had, and had focused her attention on the Tributes which could possibly pose a threat to Barca and Diona, that years representatives of District Two.

When she'd first seen the image on screen of the same girl soaked in blood having just taken out the boy from five with the single axe she'd managed to grab during the bloodbath she'd been surprised, just like everyone else had, at the level of skill and precision the girl had shown. Johanna Mason had known exactly what she was doing. She'd played them all with her pathetic little weakling act and everyone had fallen for it, hook line and sinker.

There was no need for the Gamemakers to interfere that year, the Tributes behaving exactly as they should do and hunting each other down until there were only two left alive.

Barca Mullins and Johanna Mason.

In a final battle reminiscent of her own the two of them had faced off against each other at the Cornucopia, the younger girl proving that her pathetic image had been a complete and utter sham by going after him with bloodthirsty precision. Enobaria had found herself torn between District loyalty and genuine respect as she'd watched the fight drag on and on.

In the end it was a stumble that ended Barca’s chances, his foot landing on a stone which shifted, knocking him off balance just long enough for her to get under his defence and bury the deadly blade of her axe deep into his chest. His canon had sounded instantaneously.

~ * ~

As far as most people were concerned, Enobaria and her fellow Mentors included, the 72nd Hunger Games began how they were destined to continue by breaking with tradition.

District One failed to produce a female Volunteer.

It shouldn't have been such a big deal and probably wouldn't have been had Persephone Waters, the seventeen year old girl whose name was pulled from the glass bowl not been quite so stunningly beautiful as to capture the hearts of the Capitol even before she was paraded along the _Avenue of the Tributes_ practically naked in a completely sheer costume.

It certainly wouldn't have been such a big deal had she not managed to continue to hold on to their attention, successfully achieving a decent training score and showing off during her interview in such a memorable and dramatic way that it was a miracle anyone had even paid attention to the twenty-three Tributes who had followed her onto the stage.

It perhaps wouldn't have been such a big deal if she had managed to become part of the Career Pack despite her lack of official training but according to Jayne, her own female Tribute that year, their generous offer of an alliance, of protection during the early stage of the Games had been turned down with a polite word and an apologetic smile.

It definitely wouldn't have been such a big deal had she not tried to protect the female Tribute of District Three by dragging her away from the initial bloodbath and finding a safe place for them to hide within the catacombs which made up that years Arena.

By right their screens should have been dominated by the faces of Arcturus Molly, Jayne Dustan, Mace Carter and Colm Lightfoot as they hunted down the various Tributes who had survived past the first day. Instead their screens had been filled with images of Persephone and by proxy her little companion, broadcasting the fact that she was receiving multiple sponsor gifts every day's ranging from food and drink to soft towels and bars of soap which she had used to great effect, stripping off her dirty clothes and bathing naked in the pool created by the underground waterfall which completely hid their hiding place from view.

Enobaria had been beginning to wonder if the Gamemakers were planning to let her, the obvious favourite that year, sit out the Games until everyone else was dead when finally they decided to make a move against her and her little friend, flooding the cave they had been hiding in and driving them directly into the path of the Careers who were on a hunt.

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't.

Somehow the pretty favourite managed not only to survive her impromptu encounter with the Career Pack, although her little friend did not, but to fight back when they found her again a couple of days later in such a way that she was credited with the deaths of Jayne and Colm although technically she never even got close enough to touch them.

District Two’s hopes for victory were subsequently eliminated after a brief fight between Arcturus and Mace, the latter only loosing due to an unfortunate rock tripping him up and leaving him exposed to the other Tributes deadly attack, which meant that for the first time in almost twenty-five years it came down to a fight between one District for the crown.

“Is this how you felt when you watched me fighting against Calliope?” Finnick enquired softly as they stood shoulder to shoulder, clutching flutes of champagne as they watched the final few moments of the Games play out on the large screen. Arcturus had just knocked her to the ground, stabbing his sword down through her thigh and into the ground to pin her in place as he began to rip open her clothing. “Helpless. Knowing that her life is over no matter what happens now? Knowing what being a favourite of the Capitol really means?”

Arcturus, along with almost everyone else, were distracted by the sight of the girls breasts.

“Yes,” Enobaria answered softly as she caught sight of movement towards the bottom of the screen and saw that Persephone had managed to grab hold of a knife. “Yes, it is.”

She'd been too focused on her own suffering to really feel anything with a Gloss had won the year after her but she his twin sister had copied him the year after that she'd begun to feel that helplessness, filled with the knowledge of what would happen to them now.

When Finnick handsome, young, charismatic Finnick had won she'd been almost sick with it.

They watched as Persephone buried the blade of the knife into the side of Arcturus’s neck with a scream, only the barest hint of blood showing for what was obviously a fatal wound.

A canon sounded, signalling several things at once; the death of a Tribute, the success of a Victor, the end of the 72nd Hunger Games and, sadly, the availability of a new _favourite_.

~ * ~

Enobaria spent an unfortunate amount of time “entertaining” the following year after losing both of her Tributes to exposure in what was being called “the most boring Games of our time” by the citizens of the Capitol who wanted to see blood and guts and gore and, as such, were deeply unsatisfied with the sheer amount of “natural” deaths caused the impossible condition presented by the snow covered Arena and the lack of supplies at the Cornucopia. For a long time it looked like the Capitol weren't going to get a Victor at all…

It came down to two unlikely candidates, Trax Hargie of District Six and Lowell Grey of District Ten, who had somehow managed to survive when all of the favourites had perished.

Enobaria was flat on her back as she watched their final battle, if it could be called that, and when Lowell smashed a rock down onto Trax’s head her client for the evening, the Minister for Education, found it so _exciting_ that he finished then and there with a howl of pleasure.

How she managed to hold down the contents of her stomach she would never know.

~ * ~

Sitting on the train speeding towards the Capitol, a flute of champagne held carelessly in her hand, she assessed the teenagers sat across from her both of whom sat in stony silence.

Brutus, her fellow Mentor, had already excused himself and retired to his room on the train as she had quickly learned was his habit when she had first become a Mentor herself, the older Victor needing the quiet isolation to prepare himself for the chaos the next few weeks would bring. He took great pride in being a Victor, believing whole heartedly in the glory of the Games, but he was nearing fifty and as such was beginning to long for retirement.

She'd seen both Cato and Clove during her visits to the Career Training Program at the school so she had a pretty good idea of how skilled they were but she hadn't expected to see Clove for another couple of years, the female volunteer being only fifteen years old.

Her youth would be against her as would her size, given that she could be no taller than 5’4 and wouldn't weight more than 110 pounds soaking wet. She was literally nothing when compared to her partner, eighteen year old Cato, who towered over almost everyone at around 6’2 and had enough muscle and bulk that he must be pushing 200 pounds.

There was something about her, about the almost manic look in her eyes that warned Enobaria not to underestimate the girl. She was dangerous, there was no denying that fact given how accurate she was with her throwing knives, but she was also a little unhinged.

“Cato,” she eventually spoke up, drawing their attention to her as she took a lengthy sip of her drink and settled back into her chair, one gaze as apathetic as the other was manic. “Brutus is going to be your Mentor. Listen to him. He knows what he's talking about.”

Cato nodded once, sharply, before looking away from her.

“Clove,” she continued, turning her attention to the girl who had tilted her head to one side, her long dark falling across her face. “I'll be acting as your Mentor. You want to win, you listen to me and you do as I say. Now, when we arrive at the Remake Centre I want both of you to do every single thing that your prep teams tell you to do. I don't care how pointless or ridiculous it seems to you. Their jobs are to prepare you for your stylists and they know what they're doing because they've been doing it for years. They're there to help you.”

Cato grunted in response.

Clove remained silent, her lips pursing into a thin line as her gaze hardened significantly.

 _Oh, yes,_ Enobaria thought to herself as she raised her glass with deliberate calmness, silently requesting a refill from the Avox on duty, _they definitely needed to keep an eye on her._

~ * ~

She had been busy flirting with one of their biggest sponsors when the _Tribute Parade_ had begun, her hand discretely working its way into his lap in just the way he always liked. Out of the corner of her eye she'd watched as Cato and Clove were paraded along the _Avenue of the Tributes_ in historical military costumes which glinted majestically in the artificial light, both of them remaining stony faced as they saluted the audience. They didn't wave.

“Hmm…” Solonius hummed thoughtfully, his hand moving to rest on the inside of her leather clad thigh. Years of practise kept her from shuddering in discomfort as his warm, podgy fingers began stroking the smooth fabric. “She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?”

“Yes,” she agreed with his softly, the words tasting like ash in her mouth as she was forced to participate in what she believed to be one of the hardest duties she had as a Mentor – advertising her Tribute as a possible plaything should she emerge triumphant. “She is.”

“Young, too…”

She was saved from having to continue with the horrific task of advertising her Tribute as though she was nothing more than a common streetwalker by the crowd around her reacting shifting their seats, letting out over-exaggerated gasps of shock which rapidly transformed into manic cheering at which point both she and Solonius leaned away from each other in order to get a good look at what everyone else was reacting so loudly to.

It appeared as though the entrance of the tunnel was on fire, or rather one of the chariots emerging towards the end of the line was on fire. Eventually though it became pretty obvious that it wasn't the chariot that was on fire, rather it was the two Tributes riding in it.

“Who is that?” Solonius demanded breathlessly, his eyes wide. “She's breath-taking…”

Glancing up at the closest hanging barrier which had previously been showing each of the Tributes in turn she found herself staring at the striking face of the stoic girl from District Twelve, Katniss Everdeen, who had already caused quite a stir by volunteering to save her younger sister. Her stylist had apparently managed to do the impossible, taming something as unpredictable as fire to create impossible capes for both her and her fellow Tribute.

It was pointless to continue trying to gather the support of her usual sponsors after that.

They wouldn't be open to her suggestions until the image of that girl on fire had faded from their minds so she resigned herself to getting up extra early in order to make up for lost time. Sponsors were everything, she had quickly learned, as Career Tributes often relied on their gifts to survive given that they tended not to focus on survival skills during training.

Excusing herself she made her way down to the cavernous room where the chariots would soon arrive, joining her fellow Mentors who were all wearing similar expressions of frustrated annoyance mixed with an unavoidable respect, each of them having to admit even if only to themselves that it was about time that District Twelve had some good luck.

Haymitch, as per usual, looked to be well on his way to disgustingly drunk where he was stood next to his ridiculously dressed escort and two unfamiliar figures. They, at least, appeared to be dressed relatively normally despite obviously being from the Capitol.

“I'd keep an eye on those stylists of yours if I were you, Haymitch,” she called out with a feral grin for the older mentor as she passed them on her way to her own team. “After the splash they just made you'll be lucky to hold onto them for the rest of the Games...”

Haymitch snorted loudly into his drink.

His escort however pursed her pale blue lips, her porcelain forehead wrinkling beneath the ridiculous wave of her wig, and snapped imperiously in her clipped, Capitol voice;

“As you are well aware the stealing of another teams stylist is expressly forbidden and as such I would be forced to report your comment to the proper authorities should you–”

While the feral grin she'd offered Haymitch had been playful the one she turned on his escort was not, the deadly points of her golden teeth catching in the light as she made a point of pausing in her journey in order to look the idiotic woman up and down.

To give the Capitolite her dues she didn't back down like most people would have.

“Never said I had any designs on them, sweetheart,” she eventually muttered, using the term of endearment she knew Haymitch favoured. His own smirk grew as the silk clad escort huffed loudly and behind him the two stylists looked somewhat perplexed by the exchange. “I only wanted to give you a bit of a heads up. Other teams aren't nearly so honourable…”

Nodding towards Haymitch who toasted her with what remained of his drink she turned her back on them and continued her journey across the room towards her team, swaying her hips more than was strictly necessary just so that she could annoy his escort some more.

“What was that about?” Brutus enquired as she joined him, the first of the chariots entering at the far side of the room and carrying its occupants to their team. The Tribute Parade may have started out in order of District but as per usual it ended in controlled chaos, only the well trained horses keeping things organised. “Haymitch's girlfriend giving you trouble?”

She couldn't help but snort loudly.

“They are not sleeping together,” she announced just as their chariot appeared, bringing their scowling Tributes over to them. “Not for lack of trying on his part, however…”

Getting their Tributes up to their suite of rooms on the second floor proved to be more challenging than usual simply because neither Cato or Clove were willing to leave until they'd seen the pair from District Twelve, offering the two identical glares as they climbed out of their own chariot. Thankfully the flames appeared to have been extinguished.

“Hey!” Brutus eventually snapped as they refused to move for the third time. “So they were the stars of the _Tribute Parade_. Big deal. They’re Twelve; they're going to flunk out of the training, get pathetically low scores and you can kill them off during the bloodbath.”

It was true that the events he described were the standard performance of the Tributes from District Twelve but Enobaria had a horrible feeling that this year would be different.

~ * ~

“Arrogance, thy name is Cato…” Brutus muttered as they gathered to watch the announcements of this year’s training scores. The Tribute in question hadn't stopped boasting about how well his private session with the Gamemakers had gone since he'd arrived back in their suite, predicting that he would be ahead of everyone at the top of the leader board. Clove, on the other hand, had been completely silent. “At least yours knows how to be quiet. Getting him ready for Caesar tomorrow is going to be an absolute pain.”

Enobaria wasn't so sure about that.

There was something about Cato’s behaviour over the past few days which reminded her of the carefully scripted performances she'd been putting on for years, playing the part that was expected of her to its fullest. He was hiding something, she just didn't know what.

Cloves silence unnerved her.

Whenever the girl did choose to speak it was always in clipped, controlled tones and measured sentences which failed to conceal her unhealthy obsession with knives and the suffering they could bring. Enobaria had a feeling that had things been different, had the Games not existed for whatever reason, then Clove still would've ended up a murderer.

**“And now the training scores.”**

“Finally…” she sighed, settling down into her seat now that Caesar had finally finished reading out the long list of citizens who had helped fund the equipment used inside the training centre that year. Did anyone really care who bought the ropes or the swords?

**“From District One, Marvel Webster, with a score of…nine.”**

No one was surprised by the high score he had achieved, the boy was even bigger than Cato and significantly wider, his shoulders some of the broadest she'd seen in a long while.

**“From District One, Glimmer Cunningham, with a score of…nine.”**

Clove scoffed loudly.

“She's all fluff and no substance,” she muttered coldly, her hands playing with the knife she'd taken from the dining table. “No real talent except for flirting. She'll be easy to kill.”

Despite the fact that Enobaria had already been thinking along the same lines hearing the cold assessment coming from Clove’s pursed lips made it sound even more damning.

“Shut up!” Cato snapped, earning a glare in response. “Here comes my score.”

**“From District Two, Cato Gaulden, with a score of…ten.”**

Brutus clapped the cheering boy on the shoulder, pulling him back down into his seat when he would have jumped up to celebrate, his strong grip keeping him in place as he congratulated him for getting such an admittedly impressive score. It had been a few years since any Tribute, even a Career, had received a score of ten with most people getting nines.

“Shut up!” Clove hissed, pointing her knife towards Cato threateningly. “It's my turn now!”

**“From District Two, Clove Atkinson, with a score of…ten.”**

There was no outburst of joy from her Tribute, merely a cold smile which sent a shiver of something similar to fear running up and down her spine. If the knife hadn't looked deadly in her delicate looking hands before, despite its relatively blunt state, it certainly did now.

Caro on the other hand let out a loud grumble of annoyance as she marched his score.

**“From District Three, Samuel Hastings, with a score of…nine.”**

Cato was distracted from Clove matching his own score as the pair of them both questioned how “that runt” managed to get such an unusually high score. According to them he had been “beyond pathetic” for the duration of the training sessions although not the worst.

“I'll see what I can find out,” she promised as the broadcast continued, the girl from three scoring a much more predictable score. “See if it'll be worth your while keeping him alive.”

She could tell that neither of them were particularly keen to honour the usual alliance with District Four when it was reclined that, while the boy had managed to achieve a score of eight, the girl who appeared to be the older of the two only managed to gain a score of six.

There weren't any big surprises from Five, Six and Seven but District Eight managed to cause a stir for all of the wrong reasons when their male tributes score was announced by Caesar.

**“From District Eight, Adya Kaminski, with a score of…are we sure this is right?”**

Cato had stiffened in his seat which was unusual to say the least, his gaze focused on the card Caesar was checking the validity of with someone who was standing just off screen.

Interesting…

 **“Apologies, ladies and gentlemen,”** Caesar murmured, flashing the camera one of his trademark smile. **“From District Eight, Adya Kaminski, with a score of…one.”**

Enobaria was surprised that it was this announcement which finally succeeded in getting an obvious response from her Tribute, the petite girl collapsing into hysterical laughter, tears actually falling down her rosy cheeks as she pointed the knife she held towards Cato.

“That's the boy who's got you all twisted up like a athletic school girl?” she sneered, still all but doubled over in hysterics even as the host of the Hunger Games moved on to the next group of scores. “How pathetic did he have to be to get a score of one?!? He's not going to last five minutes once we get into the Arena and that's the boy you've pitched your cap at?”

“Shut up!”

Enobaria shared a look with Brutus as they heard the embarrassed frustration creeping into Cato’s voice as he struggled to ignore Cloves continued hysterics. Obviously he did have some sort of an interest in the boy although he did nothing to confirm whether or not his interest was reciprocated. She hoped not. It was difficult enough when District partners were friends. It was impossible when friendships of any kind formed between Districts.

“Would you pipe down?” Brutus snapped across at Clove who went instantly silent, glaring at him. “I want to hear what the boy from Eleven and the pair from Twelve got.”

The boy from Eleven was a possible threat, his towering height and impressive muscles causing him to stand out. The two from Twelve were still considered the Capitol favourites which left them firmly in their list of threats due to the ease they would gain sponsors.

**“From District Eleven, Thresh Oldman, with a score of…ten.”**

If Brutus hadn't already shut her up that announcement would have, her grin dropping into a deadly scowl as she tightened her grip on the knife. Cato reacted similarly, exploding in frustrated singer about the fact that his score had been matched not once but twice.

And by someone from Eleven...

It was almost completely unheard of, a Tribute from an outlying District getting a score in the double-figures but there it was in obnoxiously large numbers on the screen.

Yes, that boy was definitely to be considered a threat.

**“From District Eleven, Rue Alderman, with a score of…seven.”**

Now that, Enobaria had to concede, was surprising. Rue was the youngest entrant in this years Games at only twelve years old and normally that would also mean an unimpressive score of five or under but here she was with a score which lit her not only in the middle of the pack but above eight other Tributes, one of which was supposed to be a Career.

“She's one to watch…” she murmured even as the others continued to discuss Thresh and how they would have to deal with him. “Quiet! Let's see what the Twelve’s got this year.”

**“From District Twelve, Peeta Mellark, with a score of…eight.”**

Clove had made a passing comment the other day about the boy from a Twelve showing off his considerable strength but she seriously doubted that the Gamemakers would have awarded another unusually high score for just that. This meant that he had at least one other skill hitch had impressed the Gamemakers which he had managed to keep a secret.

He was definitely another one to watch out for.

Now, though, it was time to find out what the Capitol’s current favourite had scored.

**“And finally…from District Twelve, Katniss Everdeen, with a score of…Eleven.”**

“What?!?”

It wasn't surprising that both of her Tributes reacted violently to having their scores beaten by someone from _District Twelve_ ; Cato flipping the coffee table over which sent everything that had been resting on top of it crashing down onto the floor into hundreds of little pieces whilst Clove sent the seemingly harmless piece of cutlery she'd been playing with flying towards the holo screen with enough force to bury the supposedly dull blade a good couple of inches into the wall right where Katniss Everdeen's head was still bring projected.

“I'll kill her.”

It was said softly but with such conviction that Enobaria was inclined to believe her.

~ * ~

“We need to get new stylists for next year,” Enobaria muttered towards her fellow Mentor as they moved to take their seats in the audience having dropped their Tributes off backstage. “Cato’s suit is practically the same one Finius wore last years and who in their right mind would put a girl like Clove in a _peach_ coloured gown made of chiffon and tulle?”

Brutus grunted in agreement.

As with everything else the seating was arranged in numerical order by District, the Escorts and Stylists taking up the first two rows of the audience, the Mentors taking up the next two with poor Haymitch Abernathy always left sitting on the end with an empty seat beside him.

Enobaria found herself sitting between Brutus and Beetee Latier as per usual, the clever Mentor offering her a discreet nod of greeting as she dropped elegantly into her chair.

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen,”** the announcer’s voice suddenly boomed around the room, interrupting many an excited conversation as the versions stage lights suddenly came to life. **“Your master of ceremonies – Caesar Flickerman!”**

As they did every year the audience went wild as the spotlights suddenly picked out the man posed on one of the chairs in the centre of the stage, his dark blue suit matching his carefully styled hair, and Enobaria clapped politely along with all of the other Mentors.

 **“Thank you!”** Caesar called out, holding the plain black microphone up to his mouth. In past years he'd used anything from a shining gold microphone to one covered in actual diamonds. **“Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!”**

It still sickened her how people could get so excited at the prospect of twenty-three violent deaths but if anything the cheering rose to a whole new level, some people even whistling.

 **“Now, in about five minutes they're all going to be out here, all of the Tributes that you've heard about,”** Caesar announced grandly, working the excited audience with his usual ease. Just like the rest of the Mentors she kept an eye on the large screens broadcasting the live coverage of the event, making sure that whenever the camera swept over her she was smiling and clapping appropriately, keeping up the act. **“Are you excited? Let me hear it!”**

“He needs to find some new material…” Brutus muttered under his breath as Caesar continued to work the crowd up into a frenzy as they waited for the first of the interviews to begin. “Seriously, he's been using these same old lines since Lyme won her Games.”

“If it's not broken, why fix it,” she sighed softly in response. “I just hope they do as we told them. The last thing we need is for either of them to come across as anything but your typical Career Tribute in these interviews. Especially Clove. She's a danger to herself…”

“You've got that right,” Brutus muttered. “There'll be no saving her reputation if she goes…”

“I know.”

In all of the practise interviews they'd run Clove had been fine for the first few questions, obediently keeping her answers short and precise, but as they'd pressed on she'd begun to spiral. Her answers had become unpredictably long-winded, not to mention more manic.

 **“Let's see if she does indeed shine,”** Caesar spoke up suddenly, letting them all know that the interviews were ready to begin. **“Let's have a warm round of applause for Glimmer!”**

“I'm guessing you didn't struggle to figure out her angle, Cash,” Brutus chuckled somewhat crudely as the teenage girl strode onto the stage in a completely sheer gold colour dress which left literally nothing to the imagination. Predictably the crowd loved it. “Poor kid…”

 **“Glimmer, are you prepared?”** Caesar enquired once they'd both taken their seats, managing not to look at the swell of her breasts or her pert nipples despite her best efforts.

Brutus was right to pity the girl. She had absolutely no idea what she was setting herself up for with the over-sexualised angle she was going for if she made it out of the Arena alive.

**“Yes, Caesar, I am prepared.”**

**“I like it,”** Caesar announced happily. **“That's just the sort of response you'd expect from someone of your pedigree, my dear. Now tell me, how have you found the last few days?”**

In the end her interview was so predictable it was cringeworthy, full of flirtatious smiles, sugar coated answer and sexual innuendos so of course the audience absolutely loved it.

Enobaria was instantly glad they'd advised Cato to go for a calm, controlled appearance when Marvel literally bounded onto the stage looking like an oversized puppy. He answered Caesars questions confidently but it was obvious he was trying to come across as funny and loveable, or at least it was obvious to her and her fellow Mentors. The Capitol loved him.

“Don't do anything stupid,” Enobaria found herself pleading as her Tribute walked out onto the stage, showing off her smooth legs by holding her dress up. “Don't do anything stupid.”

 **“Welcome, Clove,”** Caesar greeted her as she took her seat. **“It's a pleasure to have you here with us. Now tell me, because we're all dying to know – how did someone as delicate looking as yourself manage to get one of the highest training scores this year?”**

“Crap…”

This was not good.

There was no way Clove was going to handle being referred to as delicate well and, despite the innocent smile she still wore on her face, Enobaria could definitely pick out the familiar manic glint in the corner of the girls eye as the camera zoomed in to capture her answer.

**“Even a _delicate_ flower can be deadly, Caesar.” **

Sagging with relief at the acceptable answer Enobaria was pleased to see the audience reacting favourably, despite the traces of sarcasm which had been evident in her voice.

 **“Of course, of course,”** Caesar chuckled, his trademark smile still firmly in place. **“I must compliment you on your charming dress, Clove. That colour really suits you very well.”**

The stiffening of Clove’s shoulders was visible for all to see.

**“I have to admit it's not my favourite colour.”**

Enobaria found herself leaning forwards anxiously once more, hearing the familiar dangerous tone creeping into the girl’s voice that she'd told her to hide behind her smile.

 **“Oh?”** Caesar asked brightly. **“What colour would you prefer to be wearing?”**

Clove’s smile was gone completely, replaced by a twisted smirk that filled her with dread.

She couldn't sell an unbalanced Tribute to the sponsors, it just wasn't possible, and that was exactly how she would describe the girl she'd been given that year. Unbalanced.

 **“Red,”** she answered without hesitation. **“Blood red. It's always been my favourite colour.”**

 **“How appropriate!”** Caesar crowed with delight, thankfully salvaging the interview enough to make the audience cheer for her once more. **“You remind me so much of your mentor.”**

What?

 **“She's my hero,”** Clove murmured, her sickeningly sweet smile back in place. Enobaria just had time to replace her confused expression with a modest smile as the cameras sought her out. **“I can't wait to be like her one day. I learnt to throw knives because of her.”**

Not once had this come up in her practise interviews.

 **“And so you will be, Clove,”** Caesar declared, thankfully choosing to wrap up the interview on a high note with the audience cheering. **“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Clove.”**

Clove allowed herself to be presented by the enigmatic host before actually offering the audience a wave as she hurried off of the stage, her long dark hair trailing after her.

“…what was that?” Brutus demanded softly. “Did you tell her to…?”

“No, I most certainly didn't!” Enobaria hissed, her cheeks flushing at the thought that everyone would assume Clove had been put up to gushing about her like that which _just wasn't done_. “I had no idea she was going to say anything like that! I would never…”

Her defence was cut off by Cato’s timely arrival on the wide stage.

He might be wearing a recycled outfit but he certainly wore it well and the audience, particularly those of the fairer sex, were absolutely delighted with him and his broad smile.

Thankfully he stuck firmly to the planned topics they'd come up with earlier.

What was she going to do about Clove? On the one hand she had the potential to win, to emerge triumphant after slaughtering everyone in her path but on the other hand there was definitely something wrong with her, something more than what was usually wrong with the bloodthirsty Career Tributes. Could she responsibly allow such a person to win?

~ * ~

In the end it didn't matter whether or not she wanted her Tribute(s) to win that year.

Despite her impressive skills, not to mention the number of kills she attributed to her name they didn't stand a hope of winning against the indomitable spirit that was Katniss Everdeen, the girl who tricked the Gamemakers into letting both she and her boyfriend live.

 **“Where's lover boy?”** Clove had taunted the girl she had pinned beneath her, trailing one of her many knives across Katniss's vulnerable throat. **“Oh, I see. You're going to help him, right? Well, that's sweet. You know, it's too bad you couldn't help your little friend.”**

Enobaria had watched alongside their loyal sponsors as the image has split to show Thresh, the boy from Eleven, sneaking up on them even as Clove continued to taunt her victim.

 **“That little girl. What was her name again? Rue?”** Clove laughed cruelly as Katniss thrashed beneath her, screaming angrily even as the blade of the knife cut into her skin. If anything this just seemed to excite Clove. **“Well, we killed her. And now we're going to kill you.”**

It was a tale as old as time and one that had happened countless times before, a Tribute getting so caught up in the moment that they failed to recognise the true danger they were in until it was too late. Clove hadn't even seen him coming before Thresh had snatched her up into the air, pinning her body to the smooth metal of the Cornucopia with a loud thud.

**“You kill her?”**

**“No!”**

It had hurt Enobaria to watch the transformation from confident killer to frightened little girl but the sponsors surrounding her had loved it, laughing brightly at what they deemed to be her comeuppance for _not playing by the rules_ by going after their precious little favourite.

**“Cato!”**

**“Shout _her_ name!” **

Enobaria had downed the rest of her drink, in desperate need of the numbness the strong alcohol would bring, as she watched the monstrous boy smash Cloves head against the side of the Cornucopia once, twice, three times before dropping her to the ground at his feet.

Several of the sponsors cheered in time with her head striking the sheet of metal.

Her eyes had been wide open, her mouth too and only the fingers curling on her outstretched hand had revealed the fact that she was still breathing following the attack.

She'd eventually died an hour later still lying ninths same spot with Cato beside her, holding her hand. The official cause of death was a brain haemorrhage, caused by a skull fracture.

Clove’s death had brought them down to the final five Tributes but unlike previous they only had to wait a day for the finale to take place. Each of them made it through the night, scattered around the Arena as they were, but in the early hours of the morning the girl from District Five was killed after unwittingly eating poisonous nightlock berries which had been gathered by Peeta. Despite her doubts about their relationship even Enobaria had to admit that Katniss's reaction when she thought the canon was for Peeta had been a genuine one.

**“What time is it?”**

**“A little after noon.”**

**“Why is it so dark?”**

**“Must be in a hurry to end it.”**

Katniss Everdeen had been right, of course, and Enobaria had watched alongside her fellow Mentors as the Arena was plunged into an unnatural darkness, a tactic that the Gamemakers had used before when they wanted to hide the fact that they were releasing muttations into the Arena to whittle down the final few Tributes left in the Games.

Thresh had fought valiantly but had eventually been overcome by the monstrous beasts.

This had left just Cato and the two from District Twelve. She and Brutus should have been excited, should've been hopeful for a positive outcome but one look at the dead expression in their Tributes eyes and they'd both known that he had already given up on making it out.

 **“Go on. Shoot. Then we’d both go down and you’d win,”** Cato had taunted Katniss as he held Peeta in front of him, his voice thick. **“Go on. I’m dead anyway. I always was, right?”**

His gaze had flickered away from her, fixating on a point somewhere behind her head for a long moment before he forced his attention back to her. His eyes had been full of tears.

**“I didn’t know that until now.”**

A gasping sob had all but punched itself out of his lungs, his tears flooding down his cheeks.

 **“I loved him. I loved him and you took him away from me,”** he announced loudly and they all knew exactly who he meant, even Katniss who had heard about their relationship from Peeta. **“The one thing that was good and pure and kind in my life and you killed him.”**

The relationship he’d struck up with the boy from Eight had confused many people, none the least his two Mentors, but it had been infinitely more genuine than the farce put on by the supposed ‘ _star crossed lovers from District Twelve’_ so in the end it had been a relatively easy sell for them. They’d actually gained a few new sponsors for the first time in years.

 **“You didn’t even have the decency to make it clean!”** he had spat across at her, his grip tightening on Peeta's throat, causing him to gasp softly. **“You left him to suffer!”**

Katniss at least had the decency to look guilty but that hadn’t been enough for Cato.

 **“Why shouldn’t I show you what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest?”** Cato had demanded. **“Why shouldn’t I be the one to take away something that you love?”**

The distraught Career had looked away from her then, his angry gaze unwittingly locking with the camera focused on capturing his part in the finale of the 74th Hunger Games.

 **“How is that?”** he had called out towards the sky. **“Is that what they want? Huh?”**

Enobaria had felt her heart clench in response at the sound of desperation in his voice.

 **“I could still do this…”** Cato had muttered then, almost to himself as he changed his grip ever so slightly on the trembling boy he held captive. **“I could still do this. One more kill.”**

It was obvious to anyone who had fought inside the Arena or had had training of any kind that Cato was preparing to snap the other Tributes neck in a swift motion.

 **“It’s the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my District. Not that it matters,”** Cato had trailed off weakly, fixing his attention back on Katniss. **“I was going to let him win, you know? The boy I loved? The boy you killed. I was going to send him home…”**

Katniss had fired.

It had been a messy death.

Her arrow had struck the centre of his hand with a sickening thud, causing him to release his hold on Peeta who took the opportunity to drive his knee into Cato’s stomach. No one could blame him for crying out in fear as he tumbled over the edge, landing on his back right in the middle of the pack of rabid muttations who pounced on him without hesitation.

It would have been a slow death had Katniss not had the decency to put an arrow in his heart.

And thus ended the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

~ * ~

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the 75th year of the Hunger Games,”** President Snow greeted almost regally from the large screen in front of her and she couldn’t help but scoff into her wine glass. Who did he think he was kidding with his gentle act? “ **It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty-five years there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance.”**

_Special significance…_

What a polite way to say that President Snow’s predecessor, President Mitchell, had decided that every twenty-five years they wanted to make things even worse for the poor people of Panem who had no choice but to go along with everything they said.

She couldn’t remember either of the previous Quarter Quell’s although she’d seen plenty of recaps just like everyone else, the Capitol delighting in reminding them of the _distinguished combat_ shown by the previous Victors. Midas of District One had won the first Quarter Quell after being voted into the Arena by the people of his District, dominating the entire 25th Hunger Games with his skills with both a sword and a knife he had used to carve his name in the forehead of his final kill, the colossal boy from District Two who had been all but feral.

Haymitch Abernathy had won the second Quarter Quell, during which twice as many Tributes were chosen so that each one had a 1 in 48 chance of coming out alive. Her fellow Victor had won by simply being cleverer than all of the other Tributes who had survived the initial bloodbath although the recaps never showed the actual moment he won by killing Silk, the girl from District One, something about the footage being damaged or lost.

 **“And now, on this, the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion we celebrate the third Quarter Quell,”** President Snow declared on the screen, carefully opening the envelope before pulling out the card which had been contained inside. His eyes scanned the words printed on the card and within a blink of an eye Enobaria caught sight of something akin to a bloodthirsty smirk behind his smile. **“ _As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol on this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district._ ”**

No…

“No…”

 **“They shall therefore present themselves on Reaping Day,”** he continued, apparently content to ignore the shock outcries coming from the people who had gathered eagerly in the _Avenue of the Tributes_ for the reading of the card. And wasn’t that a testament to how fucked up this was if they were on their side? **“Regardless of age, health or situation.”**

“Fuck!”

Her hand moved before she’d even consciously thought about it, sending her wine glass flying across the room. If only the President had been stood before her, she thought angrily as the glass passed through the centre of the man’s face, distorting the holo-screen for a moment before it continued on its path, smashing into hundreds of pieces against the wall.

**“And may the odds be ever in your favour.”**

Long after the screen went blank she sat there, her chest heaving with each breath she took as her mind struggled to come to grips with the fact that when the time came twenty-four of her fellow Victors, twenty-four of her friends would be going back into the Arena, struggled to come to grips with the fact that _she_ might be forced to go back into the Arena.

_Regardless of age, health or situation…_

District Two had succeeded in producing twelve _glorious_ Victors throughout the years that the Hunger Games had been in effect and of those twelve Victors nine remained.

Nolan Atkins, Victor of the 9th Hunger Games had died in his sleep a couple of years ago after a short illness and Lucretia Brandt, Victor of the 15th Hunger Games had been killed in a _tragic accident_ involving a chair, a noose and a sudden drop on the twentieth anniversary of her victory. Aurelia Popplewell, Victor of the 40th Hunger Games, had _died unexpectedly_ whilst on a visit to the Capitol during the Victory Tour of the 47 th Hunger Games.

Knowing what she did now about the life of a Victor Enobaria suspected that the attractive young woman been killed by one of her _clients_ as no cause of death had ever been given.

Ivory Faust, who had won the 13th Annual Hunger Games by being one of the few Tributes who didn’t refuse to participate, was their eldest surviving Victor and had been bedridden for almost a decade now due to a crippling case of arthritis. 

If she was Reaped there was no chance of her surviving past the first few seconds.

Brutus, her fellow Mentor and Victor of the 44th Hunger Games, was expected to maintain a high level of physical fitness despite the fact that he was nearly fifty years old due to his continued appearances in the Capitol. The same could be said for Nerilla Lawson and Lyme Conners who had won the 59th and 52nd Hunger Games respectively, both women still being called upon to _entertain_ in the Capitol despite their rapid approach towards middle age.

If any of them were Reaped they stood a good chance of emerging victorious once more.

Gannicus Grayson, who had won the 58th Hunger Games, had been badly wounded during the initial bloodbath and had subsequently been abandoned by his fellow Careers leaving him to survive on his own. He’d persevered and somehow managed to defeat the favourite during the finale but had been left with permanent nerves damage to all four of his limbs due to the delay between initial injury and treatment, leaving him unable to move without pain.

If he was Reaped he even survive the three days of training leading up to the Games.

Enobaria herself came next.

She’d won the 62nd Hunger Games over a decade ago now and just like her fellow Victors who were called upon to _entertain_ the citizens of the Capitol she had been forced to maintain an equally high level of physical fitness so she knew that, should her name be called during the Reaping Ceremony, she was physically capable of surviving the Games.

Whether or not she was mentally capable of surviving the Games was a completely different matter as she no longer had the same motivation she had once had. There was no need for her to win in order to be remembered, for people to know her name. They already did.

If she fought in these _special_ Games she was nothing more than a slave for the Capitol.

Kol Styx was their youngest Victor having won the 66th Hunger Games. He had emerged without injury and in remarkably good health after one of the shortest Games in the history of the deadly spectacle but something had broken inside his mind. His ice blue eyes were almost constantly vacant and when they did focus it was on things that weren’t there.

If he was Reaped he would be a danger to everyone involved, let alone to himself.

Jumping up from her seat she stalked across the bar, grabbing the bottle of scotch and pouring herself a large tumbler full which she downed almost in one, retching from the strong taste even after all these years using it to numb her system after the worst days.

“Fucking Hunger Games…”

~ * ~

 **A/N** So…in my original plan this story was only meant to have three chapters…yeah…that’s now been pushed up to five as it’s just been getting longer and longer and longer… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this update. Comments & Suggestions are welcome. X


	4. 75TH HUNGER GAMES

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own the Hunger Games. I’m just borrowing them for a little bit.

 **Warnings:** Violence, Mild Language, Implied Forced Prostitution

**~ REMEMBER MY NAME ~**

**~ 75 TH HUNGER GAMES ~**

When the day finally came Enobaria dressed carefully, choosing a tribal dress of gold, orange and black which one of her many patrons in the Capitol had commissioned for her during the previous year’s Games. Her hair she left loose, allowing the thick black strands to cascade in deceptively innocent looking curls which she crowned with a simple gold chain.

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that they sent a Peacekeeper escort to fetch each of the Victors, walking them into the centre of town (or in Ivory’s case carrying her) where they were herded silently into two groups, but it did. She found herself stood between Lyme and Nerilla.

Around them the people of their district stood in complete and utter silence.

 **“Welcome!”** Mira called out, her shrill voice slightly more hollow than usual although her smile was still present, her diamond encrusted teeth catching the light causing many people to flinch. **“Welcome! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!”**

They played the “Treaty of Treason” as they did every year but no one was paying any attention to it, everyone staring at the collection of Victor’s being paraded before them.

 **“We shall now select the representatives of District Two who will have the honour of competing in this year’s Quarter Quell. Ladies first...”** Mira announced once the film had come to its conclusion, conjuring up her trademark smile as she reached inside the empty looking glass bowl to retrieve one of the five slips resting at the bottom. **“Ivory Faust.”**

“Oh…”

It was said so quietly that almost everyone else missed it.

“I shall strive to do our district proud, my dears,” Ivory sighed deeply, her voice shaking with more than just age. “Would one of you be a dear and help me up onto the stage?”

Lyme helped the elderly woman onto the stage, the crowd gathered around them shifting uncomfortably as the frail Victor took her place on the stage before their shaken escort.

**“Do we have any Volunteers willing to take Ivory’s place?”**

Enobaria looked up at the woman stood on the stage, hunched over with age but her face a mask of determination even as the silence stretched on, Nerilla and Lyme squared their shoulders and gazed up at their old Mentor.

They weren’t going to volunteer.

They were going to let Ivory, one of the original Victors of the Hunger Games and an avid knitter, go to her death and for some inexplicable reason that didn’t sit right with her.

“I’m definitely going to regret this,” she sighed before stepping forwards. “I volunteer.”

~ * ~

When she was presented with her outfit for the Tribute Parade following her lengthy session in the remake centre she couldn’t stop herself from snorting loudly in response.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me...”

Unfortunately they weren’t.

Striding out into the cavernous room where the chariots had been formed up she took comfort in the fact that Brutus’ costume was every bit as awful as hers. Apparently their stylists this year had decided to go for _complete opposites_ as their theme which resulted in her wearing the tiniest tunic dress she’d ever seen made of white silk with her hair piled up on the top of her head, golden ivy braided into and flimsy golden sandals on her feet and Brutus wearing only black leather loincloth, matching arm and shin braces and a long cape.

Thankfully they weren’t the only ones dressed ridiculously.

It was pretty apparent that most of the stylists had been forced to adapt the plans they’d designed for the more traditional Tributes when the announcement about the _special_ elements of this year’s Games had been announced. In fact only District Twelve looked anywhere near decent and wasn’t that just the icing on the shit cake that was her life.

“Hey,” Gloss called out as he and his sister strode up to them wearing completely sheer outfits which hung loosely off of their toned bodies. “Career Pack? For old time’s sake?”

Normally the decision to team up was made discretely and during the actual training sessions but given they'd all known each other for years it seemed pathetic to hesitate.

“Sounds good to me,” she responded calmly. “No stabbing in the back, though. If it comes down to the four of us at the end we give each other a fair fight. Go out with honour.”

Gloss and Cashmere agreed to her terms without hesitation whilst Brutus merely grunted deeply, his own belief in the honour system afforded by the Games as absolute as ever.

Personally she thought it was a bit nuts to believe that there was nothing more honourable than competitions in the Hunger Games but in her current crowd she was definitely in the minority. They'd probably accuse her of thinking like someone from a lesser District.

~ * ~

The Tribute Parade itself went about as well as she'd predicted, the audience cheering but nowhere near as loudly as usual due to the fact that they were already grieving for the loss of some of their favourite Victors, never mind the fact that they weren't even dead yet. In fact the only ones who got a true reaction from the crowd were the show offs from District Twelve whose slowly burning costumes sent the Capitol audience into something of a tizzy.

Checking the _Moving Line Odds_ the following morning at breakfast revealed that their little stunt had pushed the odds on District Twelve winning up but they were still bellow Gloss, Cashmere, Brutus, Finnick, Johanna and herself but did knew from experience that the odds would change drastically once the Training Scores had been released and then again after the Tributes Interviews. Currently they reflected their performances in previous Games.

She was unsurprised by the lack of attendance during the first day of Training.

Neither Tribute from Districts Five, Nine and Ten showed up, nor did Blight from District Seven and the two morphlings from District Six might as well have stayed away too, their addled brains fascinated by the bright colours available to play with at the camouflage Station. Woof was dragged in by his fellow representative of District Eight and spent the entire day talking to the different trainers, repeating the same stories over and over again.

Chaff stumbled in at lunchtime already drunk, singing at the top of his voice.

It was painfully obvious to guess which Victors had already given up, almost as painfully obvious as knowing which ones didn't stand a chance no matter how hard they tried.

Mags would be given a quick death out of respect, her triumph during one of the earliest Games setting her apart as something of a legend. If Woof survived long enough he too would be given a quick death but Enobaria genuinely expected him to accidentally trigger one of the mines or something, given his memory loss and moments of complete confusion.

She hoped it didn't come down to her to take out poor Cecelia who had literally had to be torn away from her children when she was Reaped, a moment that Capitol had fallen in love with and seemed to delight in re-broadcasting at every available opportunity. Seeder would put up a decent fight if it came down to the two of them and she respected the older Victor enough that she wouldn't draw it out, wouldn't make a spectacle of it she they have to fight.

At first she'd been of a mind to be kind to Wiress and Beetee, the intellectual Victors from District Three, but then she'd noticed them allying themselves with Katniss Everdeen.

There would be no mercy shown for allies of the _Girl on Fire_ who's actions in the previous year’s Games had no doubt played a huge part in dragging them all back into the Arena.

She hadn't played by the rules and there was no way that a man like President Snow was going to let that go. Enobaria wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that this whole thing was part of an elaborate plan to get rid of the troublesome young woman from District Twelve.

“Finnick?” Gloss called out towards the end of the day. “You with us?”

The offer of an alliance with the four of them had not been made to anyone else but Finnick was the Capitol's _darling_ and as such was already the favourite to win. He'd also appeared on the circuit with all four of them at one time or another even though Brutus was mostly _retired_ from that sort of thing. It made sense to invite him to work alongside them.

Shooting them an apologetic smile he gestured towards Mags who was showing Katniss something at the fishing station and shook his head. It wasn’t Katniss he was with, they all knew that, it was Mags. She'd looked after him for years, called him her _special boy_ and had volunteered to take the place of his not-so-secret lover. Where Mags went he went.

Gloss nodded.

“No hard feelings,” he called out before looking across at Enobaria and his sister. Brutus was busy throwing spears at moving targets with an alarming level of accuracy. Age hadn't slowed him down in the slightest. “What about Mason? Should we bring her in?”

As one they turned to look at the volatile young woman practicing with her deadly axes.

“Too unpredictable,” Enobaria answered simply. “Let's stick to just the four of us for now.”

Woof was absent on the second day of Training due to a _headache_ , or at least that was what Cecelia claimed. Surprisingly both District Five and District Ten put in an appearance that day, wandering around somewhat aimlessly until everyone gathered to watch Katniss shoot.

Annoyingly she was every bit as good as people claimed she was.

Nothing of great importance happened on the third day although Enobaria did figure out that both Katniss and Peeta seemed to be a little unnerved by her sharpened teeth and made sure to bare the golden fangs she secretly hated as often as she could, enjoying the way they flinched and attempted to hide the fact that they were staring at her in horror.

Obviously they'd seen footage of what she'd been able to do with her natural teeth.

The private sessions seemed to fly by, Enobaria delighting the Gamemakers with her considerable skills and the bloodthirsty persona she had adopted since winning her Games, and in no time at all she and Brutus were reclining on the sofa in their suite with a drink of their choice in their hands as they watched the live broadcast of the Training Scores.

These, like everything else, were painfully predictable.

The Career Districts scored high, starting with Gloss who achieved a score of Nine, just as he had during his first time in the Games, and Cashmere who surprisingly dropped a couple of points from her original score by “only” achieving a score of Seven this time round.

Brutus cheered, downing the rest of his drink, as it was announced that he had improved on his original score by achieving a Ten this time round and was still celebrating when it was announced that Enobaria had also matched her original score with her own score of Ten.

Finnick achieved a respectable Nine while Mags surprised them all by achieving a Seven.

There were other high scores which were slightly less predictable but nothing of a surprise. Beetee had managed to achieve a score of Eight, no doubt by showing off his superior intelligence while Johanna Mason, who couldn't use her original tactic of pretending to be a weakling now that they all knew what she was capable of, had doubled her original score by impressing the Gamemakers enough to give her a score of Ten. They'd have to watch her.

Blight surprised them all by achieving a Seven in spite of the fact that he had only turned up for his private session and even then had seemed lethargic and half-asleep although Chaff's score of Eight had surprised them even more, given his physical limitations and the fact that his alcohol dependency almost rivalled Haymitch Abernathy’s. Almost.

Seeder proved that determination was most definitely worth something by achieving a score of Seven but it was the final two scores of the broadcast that shocked and surprised almost the entire population of Panem. Peeta Mellark, the mild-mannered boy from District who only had one confirmed kill to his name, the second one still in dispute as technically the girl had poisoned herself, managed to outshine them all by achieving a score of Twelve.

“ _What_?”

And then, just to top it off, Katniss Everdeen somehow managed to match his score.

It seemed as though someone really wanted them to enter these Games with the biggest targets on their backs as they could possibly have, every other Victor knowing that the only way to stop the sponsors flocking around District Twelve was to eliminate them. Quickly.

Sponsors often made the difference between life and death inside the Arena.

~ * ~

As far as interview outfits went she had definitely seen worse although she would have liked to have seen how it looked on someone of Reaping age, given how the whole thing had obviously been styled to show off the womanly figure she possessed and her shapely legs.

The focal point of the entire outfit was the beaded gown, the front of which stopped mid-thigh while the back transformed into a tulle train. It was a dazzling gold colour which contrasted against her dark skin and the beads caught the light every time she moved. It had a high collar which encased her entire throat and the sleeves had been designed to look like piece of armour while her arms were left completely bare so as to show off the jewellery.

Speaking of which she personally though that the three separate pieces of jewellery were a bit much but who was she to argue against her stylist? Her wrists were completely hidden from view by thick golden bracelets shaped like flowers, fragile golden chains linking the bracelets to identical golden flowers on the backs of her hands which were held in place by five more length of delicate golden chains leading to the chunky golden rings she wore on each finger and thumb. Her nails had been painted gold to match. The final piece of jewellery was a golden tiara which had been pinned on top of her loose hair, some of the pins digging into her scalp rather painfully, and this too was shaped like golden leaves.

 **“Thank you! Thank you!”** Caesars voice echoed throughout her dressing room from the screen on the far wall where Mira was stood watching the proceedings. She was dressed like a peacock. **“Thank you for being here tonight on the eve of the 75th Hunger Games. We have never seen anything like this. And we will never see anything like it again.”**

As far as her makeup went they had done little more than accentuate the contours of her face before dusting some golden shadow onto her eyelids and applying a pair of ridiculously thick false eyelashes. Her lips were, unsurprisingly, coated in a golden shimmer gloss.

 **“Because tonight, on this stage, twenty-four of Panem’s brightest stars will vie for the ultimate crown,”** Caesar continued to work the crowd in the other room, getting them ready for what was bound to be an _interesting_ night. **“Tonight will be their final opportunity to express their thoughts. Our final opportunity to express our love. And heartbreakingly, to say goodbye to all but one. What a night. Let's hear it. It's so exciting!”**

Lastly she was helped into a ridiculous pair of golden gladiator-style wedges.

“There!” her stylist announced grandly as she stepped back. “My work is done.”

She made it sound like she'd had such a tough job.

Enobaria would like to see her fight her way through the Arena…

**“Ladies and Gentlemen, please, give a warm hand for the delightful Cashmere!”**

They'd dressed Cashmere in a diamond encrusted figure hugging mini-dress and heels so ridiculously tall it was amazing that she could stand upright in them let alone make her way gracefully onto the stage to join their enigmatic host, smiling tearfully as he kissed her hand.

**“Cashmere, my dear, you look as ravishing as per usual.”**

**“Th-Thank you, Caesar…”** Cashmere’s voice trembled precariously, trailing off as a solitary tear dripped down her cheek forming a line in her makeup and for a moment Enobaria couldn't tell if this was an act or if the younger woman really was that upset. **“I'm sorry, I just…I can't believe that this might be the last time we’ll speak with each other…I…Gloss?”**

Her brother bounded onto the stage, passing her a silk handkerchief from his pocket before winding his arm around her waist supportively whilst offering Caesar an apologetic smile.

 **“Sorry, Caesar,”** Gloss murmured sincerely, the microphone picking up each word despite the softness of his voice. **“Would it be all right if I stayed to support my sister?”**

**“Of course you can stay, Gloss…”**

Mira gasped melodramatically.

“We need to get her backstage,” she ordered sharply, tottering around on her own ridiculous heels and smacking at a member of her prep team when they got in the way. “Now! Trust District One to find a way to upstage everyone and mess with the schedule…”

 **“You two made the Games a family affair,”** Caesar’s voice echoed loudly as she was escorted to the back of the stage where the Tributes were to enter from for their interviews. **“You became everyone's brother and sister. I don't know how we're going to let you go.”**

 **“We're not going by choice,”** Gloss admitted seriously, his voice seemingly filled with emotion. **“You are our family. And I don't see how anyone can love us better.”**

Unsurprisingly the crowd loved that, calling out their own love for the two siblings whilst Enobaria fought off her stylist’s hands as she tried to alter how the dress was hanging.

 **“So sweet,”** Caesar murmured as the crowd slowly calmed. **“So sweet.”**

“You know what to say?” Lyme asked, speaking up for the first time in her position as Enobaria's Mentor. Thus far she'd had very little to do, her Tribute knowing the ropes. “Just stick to the plan, give them what they wanted to see and I'll sort out the rest.”

A hitched breath echoed throughout the room.

**“I'm sorry...”**

**“That's all right...”** Caesar murmured in response to Cashmere’s tearful apology even as the audience reacted with a surprising amount of audible worry and compassion for the Victor.

 **“I just can't stop crying…”** Cashmere admitted, evidently wiping away more tears with her brother’s handkerchief as she spoke. **“I held it together through training but now…”**

 **“You've done very well, my dear,”** Caesar reassured her instantly, his tone surprisingly genuine. **“Both of you have. I can't imagine what it must be like, saying goodbye not only to each other but to all of your friends in the Capitol. But I know you'll do us proud.”**

**“Thank you, Caesar. That means so much coming from you.”**

Tilting her head to the side so as to click her aching neck she shook out her shoulders, wiggling her arms at the same time before bending her legs as best she could in her heels.

 **“I'm afraid that's all we have time for,”** Caesar announced, his voice bright once more as he returned to working the crowd rather than participating in an interview. **“So please show your appreciation to our favourite siblings of District One, Cashmere and Gloss!”**

Using the applause to cover her she cleared her throat a couple of times, ensuring that her voice wouldn't sound weak when she got on stage and ran her tongue across her teeth.

**“Now it's time for us to welcome our sharp-toothed wonder of District Two, Enobaria!”**

“Remember, shoulders back, tummy in and head up,” Mira ordered just as the doors opened before her and she was lit up by a blinding spotlight. “Tits and teeth. Tits and teeth.”

“I know what I'm doing…” she muttered before plastering a brilliant smile on her face and striding out onto the stage, swaying her hips in an exaggerated fashion. Caesar greeted her by pressing a kiss to her bejewelled hand. **“Don't worry, Caesar, I'm not going to cry.”**

Her comment had the desired effect, prompting the audience to laugh along with the host.

 **“It never crossed my mind that you would,”** Caesar announced as though to reassure her. **“What a stunning outfit you have on for us this evening. I particularly like these.”**

Still holding her hand he lifted it up to show the jewellery to the audience who reacted positively, several of the women begging loudly to know where she had obtained them.

As though she'd have any idea…

**“So tell us, Enobaria, how confident are you going into the Arena for a second time?”**

**“Very confident, Caesar,”** she responded, making sure to smirk in such a way that the light flashed off of her deadly teeth. **“Like a fine wine my skills have only improved with age. After all, how many people get the opportunity to win the Games for a second time?”**

**“Twenty-Four people, apparently!”**

She made sure to laugh along with him after his abysmal attempt at levity.

 **“So you consider this an honour, do you, Enobaria?”** Caesar enquired once the audience cues laughter had died down enough for them to be heard. **“To compete once more?”**

She wanted to scream in his face.

No!

Of course she didn't consider this second chance to die for their entertainment and amusement an honour but what other choice did she have? Sacrifice an old woman and the honour of her District just to save herself or rake her fate into her own hands once more?

 **“Of course I do, Caesar,”** she answered instead. **“An honour for myself and for my District.”**

Apparently the audience couldn't pick up on the tiny bit of sarcasm which had slipped into her voice as she'd answered, their cheers almost deafening as they applauded yet again.

 **“Wonderful,”** Caesar murmured, offering her a broad smile almost as dazzling as her own **“We have time for one more question, although I think I already know the answer. Any plans for when you get inside the Arena? Any strategies you can share with us?”**

She'd predicted he would close with the same question as last time, just as he had obviously predicted that she would take the opportunity to give the same answer as last time.

 **“Oh, you know me Caesar. I like to keep my plans nice and simple,”** she told him before dropping her smile and looking out towards the audience so that the camera would get a perfect view of her face. **“I'm going to win and I'll kill anyone who tries to get in my way.”**

Caesar positively cackled as the audience burst into even more thunderous applause, taking her hand in order to present her once more before guiding her towards the stairs at the edge of the stage so that she could follow the instructions all of the Victors had been given, making her way up to the higher level of the stage so that she could take her place beside Gloss who discretely rolled his eyes in her directions as she sorted out how her train hung.

~ * ~

Brutus strode onto the stage full of confidence, all but pounding on his chest like a mindless animal as he boasted about his prowess and how he planned to eliminate the competition.

It was predictable but it worked, the audience going as crazy for him as they had for her, although sadly in his case it wasn't entirely an act. He truly believed that it was an honour to be competing in another Hunger Games, that it would bring glory and riches to their District.

Poor Wiress had been dressed in something that looked like loose fitting pyjamas, the sleeves and trouser legs far too long, and she spent her entire interview giggling at nothing.

It was almost painful to watch, especially when she had to be led up the stairs to her place on the higher level by one of the crew who was dressed in black and meant to stay hidden.

Beetee emerged in clothes which gave him the appearance of a kindly old professor, the various shades of green blending well together and complimenting his ochre coloured skin.

He was the first but certainly not the last to test Caesar’s interviewing skills.

 **“Beetee. You have contributed so much to Panem over the years,”** Caesar began the interview with a gentle smile. **“I don't know who we will miss more; you or your brain.”**

 **“If the Quarter Quell’s were written into law by men,”** Beetee responded, his voice completely even as he locked his gaze on the audience. **“Certainly, it can be unwritten.”**

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the Capitolites most upset about losing their beloved Victors reacting to his less than subtle suggestion that the rules could be changed.

 **“Yes,”** Caesar coughed, clearly uncomfortable. **“Interesting concept.”**

Given that Mags had suffered a stroke a couple of years previously which had left her almost completely mute her interview was short and sweet, Caesar taking the lead with the grey haired woman nodding her head in agreement to most of the things he came out with.

Finnick's appearance sent the audience into a tizzy.

The billowing white shirt was practically open to the waist, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest and the trousers were tight enough to enhance the shape of his pert bottom. A shimmering sash about his waist and knee high boots were the only nautical thing about the blatantly revealing look, attempting to make him look like a pirate from some Capitol movie.

 **“Finnick. I understand that you have a message for somebody out there,”** Caesar began without any sort of prompting, leaning in close. **“A special somebody. Can we hear it?”**

Finnick smiled towards the eager host before locking his gaze with the nearest camera.

 **“My love, you have my heart for all eternity,”** he murmured sincerely, half of the audience cooing as though they believed his words were for them when it was obvious to anyone who looked close enough that he was and always had been in love with Annie Cresta, the girl the Games drove mad. **“And if I die in that Arena, my last thought will be of your lips.”**

Amethyst and Jayson from District Five were quietly spoken and predictable, obviously reciting lines that they had been forced to memorise before their interviews but lacking the conviction to even pretend that it was something that they would actually choose to say.

Someone had put a lot of effort into making the two morphling addicts from District Six look presentable for the vending but their efforts were pretty much in vain the moment they opened their mouth, Klara mumbling nonsense while Oswin's had been fascinated by the length of his jacket and had spent most of his time swaying in order to make it swing.

And then Johanna had stepped onto the stage.

They could all tell this was going to be good by the way her body tensed up almost as soon as Caesar began talking to her, her hands clenching visibly at her sides as she answered.

 **“We have seen a lot of tears here tonight. But I see no tears in Johanna's eyes,”** Caesar announced grandly, hamming it up for the crowd. **“Johanna, you are angry. Tell me why.”**

 **“Well, yes, I'm angry,”** the spirited young woman from District Seven responded sharply and Enobaria couldn't help but smirk as she mentally complimented Johanna's nerve. **“You know, I'm getting totally screwed over here. The deal was that if I win the Hunger Games, I get to live the rest of my life in peace. But now you all want to kill me again.”**

Caesar looked as taken aback as most of the audience did.

 **“Well, you know what?”** Johanna all but screamed, turning to glare out at the audience and in an instant Enobaria knew exactly what was going to happen next. Johanna Mason was about to explode. **“ _Fuck_ that! And _fuck_ everybody that had anything to do with it!” **

Whoever was operating the sound system had obviously predicted her outburst as well, covering the foul language with painfully loud beeps even as the audience gasped in shock.

 **“All right then. One woman's opinion,”** Caesar muttered quickly as Johanna was forcibly removed from the stage by a couple of figures dressed all in black. **“Who's next? Blight!”**

Blight did little to recover District Sevens reputation.

Instead of answering the questions posed to him by the somewhat frazzled looking host he stood perfectly still, his gaze unseeing as he recited a somewhat lengthy poem about trees.

Cecelia talked of her love for her husband and of her children, mostly her children. Of how much she missed them and longed to hold them in her arms once more. She ended her interview by wishing them all to have sweet dreams and blowing a kiss towards the camera.

While her interview had made the audience weep from grief Woofs made them howl with laughter as the poor man, obviously suffering one of his episodes, kept asking what day it was and where his dinner was as he was hungry and the dinner was late. Again.

In the end Cecelia had descended back down the stairs to collect the man who had once acted as her Mentor, leading him up the steps and reassuring him that all would be well.

The pair from District nine, Maybelle and Roman, hardly bothered to speak at all and while Caesar was floundering for anything to liven up their interviews she discretely swapped from one foot to the other, shaking them out in an attempt to ease the pain caused by her ridiculous shoes. Along from her Cashmere was doing the same although more discretely.

Lorna tried but had been an unremarkable Victor back in the day, her plain looks making her unappealing to the lecherous men and women of the Capitol and so she was soon climbing the stairs leaving Hugh to attempt to win them some sponsors, the younger Victor who passed for reasonably handsome according the Capitol laying on the charm as best he could.

When Seeder took to the stage Enobaria was sure she wasn't the only one to wince in sympathy for the Victor who was the epitome of ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ thanks to the outfit she had been given, the elaborate dress and matching headpiece unsuitable for the body of a sixty-four year old woman. She wore it with her usual smile and polite manner.

Unlike those before her Seeder’s interview ran smoothly, much Caesar's obvious relief, and he led the round of applause which accompanied her ascent to her place on the upper level.

Chaff was drunk, so drunk he almost did an impression of his friend and drinking partner when he tripped on his way onto the stage, only Caesar's quick reflexes keeping him from plunging head first off of the stage. Not that he would have noticed if he had fallen.

He slurred his way through the interview before stumbling up the stairs, almost knocking the two morphlings over as he struggled to get to his place in the second line of Victors.

And then it was time for the love birds.

~ * ~

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen, you know her as the Girl on Fire, the Victor of last years Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen!”** Caesar introduced her grandly, turning to smile at the approaching young woman who was dressed in what appeared to be the most ridiculous wedding dress Enobaria had ever seen. **“Katniss Everdeen, you look fabulous. Doesn't she? Now, Katniss, this is a very big and very emotional night for all of us. Wouldn't you say?”**

**“Don't go crying on me now, Caesar.”**

**“I can't make any promises,”** Caesar interjected quickly with a deep laugh. **“You know me.”**

**“You know I wouldn't believe you, even if you did.”**

**“I love her!”** Caesar cried out, bending back and forth. **“The _Girl on Fire_ is so cheeky!” **

_Cheeky?_

She was relieved when Caesar silenced himself mid-laugh in order to change the tone, already sick of her simpering act and desperate for this ridiculous night to be over.

 **“But, Katniss, on a more serious note,”** he continued, prompting her to drop her smile as she turned to face him. **“I think we're all here a little disappointed, more than a little disappointed, that a certain wedding did not take place. Aren't we folks?”**

Predictably the crowd murmured in agreement.

 **“Alas,”** Caesar sighed sadly before leaning forwards almost conspiratorially. **“But am I correct in assuming that this is the gown you would have worn on that day, yes or no?”**

 **“Yes,”** Katniss confirmed without hesitation, her hands fluttering on top of the ridiculous ruffles which made up the skirt. **“President Snow thought everyone would want to see it.”**

**“Well, President Snow, as usual, was right. Was he not, folks?”**

“You have got to be kidding me…” she muttered to herself as the naïve crowd of idiots roared their approval and agreement, both over the fact that they loved Katniss’ ridiculous wedding dress and the fact that President Snow was correct. “Idiots…”

 **“I love it! I love it! Don't you love it, folks?”** Caesar laughed before turning his earnest expression towards Katniss. **“Will you do us the honour? Please? Please? Please?”**

Great.

She was going to spin again, just like she did during the previous year’s interviews.

Hopefully she wouldn’t giggle like a little schoolgirl this time…

 **“Oh…My…God!”** Caesar’s initial exclamation was in reaction to the predictable flames which were sprouting from the bottom of the dress as she twirled on the spot but it quickly transformed into a cry of confusion as the wedding dress began to rapidly change into something entirely different. It was a black figure hugging dress with what appeared to be an intricate feather design embroidered onto the bodice and skirt. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, a pair of matching black wings sprouted from the back of the dress and arched up over her spread arms. **“It's like a bird. It's got feathers. It's like a…like a...”**

**“Like a _Mockingjay_.”**

**“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn't he?”** Caesar laughed in response to her confirmation of what particular creature her dress had been inspired by. Given how the Capitol hated to be reminded of their _mistakes_ she doubted it was good idea to dress the favourite Tribute up as one. **“What theatricality! Cinna! Take a bow.”**

Her stylist looked remarkably calm for a man who may as well have just signed his own death warrant, rising from his seat and taking a bow, blowing a kiss at the same time.

 **“Wonderful! Wonderful!”** Caesar cheered enthusiastically, leading the applause for a moment longer before gesturing grandly to the young woman effortlessly dominating the centre of the vast stage. **“Ladies and Gentlemen, Katniss Everdeen. The _Girl of Fire_!” **

It was as though time had stopped in the large room as they all watched and waited for Katniss to ascend the stairs and take her place amongst her fellow Victors, the wings dropping down to hang like a cape of feathers once she had settled herself into place.

**“And now for the other half of our dynamic duo, Peeta Mellark!”**

Peete stepped out onto the stage amidst a round of applause, the crowd responding to the fact that his white suit matched the elaborate wedding dress his fiancé had been wearing.

 **“Welcome back, Peeta,”** Caesar greeted him warmly, extending his hand towards the young man so that they could shake hands like friends. **“It’s so good to have you back with us.”**

 **“If only it were under better circumstances,”** Peeta responded softly, offering the host a smile even as he fiddled with the metal cuffs poking out from under his jacket sleeves. There were two matching pieces of curved metal poking artistically out of his collar. **“Perhaps one day you and I will be able to have a conversation somewhere other than this stage?”**

Caesar chuckled deeply before pulling the same trick as before in order to change the tone.

**“But, Peeta, the wedding, the marriage, never to be?”**

His next words took everyone, Enobaria included, by surprise.

 **“Well, actually, we got married,”** he admitted sheepishly, looking out towards the audience who reacted loudly to the shocking piece of news. One woman even screamed. **“In secret.”**

 **“A secret wedding?”** Caesar sounded somewhat doubtful. **“All right. Do tell.”**

 **“We want our love to be eternal,”** Peeta explained softly, the audience latching onto this juicy piece of information whole heartedly. **“You know, Katniss and I, we've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it weren't...if...”**

Enobaria felt herself begin to frown as she realised something even bigger was about to happen, about to be revealed by the young man who was so earnest no one could possibly suspect it of being a lie, something concocted to help them gain support within the Capitol.

He could work the crowd, she wasn’t too proud to admit that, but if their supposed “ _wedding_ ” wasn’t the big reveal he’d planned to end with then what in Snow’s name was?

 **“If it weren't for what?”** Caesar enquired, attempting to help him. **“What?”**

What followed was the longest silence there had ever been during a Tribute interview.

**“…if it weren't for the baby.”**

There was a general outcry of horror in response to his perfectly delivered news, only the look of surprise on Katniss’ face giving away the fact that it was a complete lie and then only if you knew what to be looking for, a fellow liar knowing how to spot all the little tells.

 **“All right. This is news!”** Caesar responded in obvious shock, placing a hand on Peeta’s arm as he tried to calm the audience who had simultaneously leapt to their feet protesting their horror and outrage. **“Let's find out more. Calm down. This is news to all of us.”**

“Call off _The Games!_ ”

The cry came seemingly out of nowhere but in the blink of an eye most of the crowd were calling out something along those lines, begging for the rules to be changed to spare them.

**“All right. Let's...”**

“Stop _The Games!_ ”

Anyone could see that there was no way for Caesar to recover the interview and so he leaned in close to Peeta’s ear and murmured something before gesturing him for him to join his _wife_ on the raised portion of the stage, the two of them hugging each other close.

 **“Everybody, calm down,”** Caesar begged the crowd just as the ‘ _Horn of Plenty_ ’ began to play loudly throughout the room as it always did at the end of the interviews although normally the only raised voices were in celebration. **“It's a great night. A great night.”**

Katniss, looking more than a little bit dazed, took hold of Peeta’s hand in her own before gently resting her hand on Chaff’s stump to link their arms as well. Behind them the two morphlings did the same and then suddenly all of the Victors were linking hands, one after another until Enobaria fund her hands being lifted high above her head by Brutus and Gloss.

 **“This is news to all of us,”** Caesar was still trying to placate the crowd but gave up when they began to react to the unified stance the Victors were now displaying on the stage, his mouth dropping in open surprise when he saw what was going on. **“All right…all right…”**

Eventually he gave up entirely, gesturing for the feed to be cut and the room went black.

~ * ~

Knowing that it would take her eyes a moment to adjust to the “ _natural_ ” light inside the Arena she made sure to close her eyes as soon as she felt the bottom of the tube begin moving and kept them shut for a couple of seconds once it had stopped, allowing the sunlight to light up her eyelids for a moment before finally cracking them open a fraction.

A quick assessment of the Arena confirmed that the Gamemakers had indeed gone all out to make this Third Quarter Quell as interesting and unique as was physically possible.

The pedestals upon which she and every other Tribute were standing upon were surrounded by what appeared to be bottomless water which meant they would have no choice to swim for it, either making their way towards the Cornucopia via the uneven rocks which stretched out from the centre of the circular body of water, splitting the pedestals up into pairs, or towards the beach which appeared to completely surround the water.

A quick glance left revealed the fact that Lorna, of District Ten, was on the pedestal to her immediate left although there was a spoke of rocks between them and on the older woman's other side stood Finnick, the only one who would be completely in his element.

Obviously he was the favourite to win if the Gamemakers were designing things to suit him.

Further around the circle of pedestals Katniss was sandwiched between Gloss and Brutus which was definitely not a good place for the girl to be and therefore must have been arranged deliberately so as to make the initial bloodbath as entertaining as possible.

To her right stood Beetee, of District Three, his pedestal within the same wedge of water as hers and the clever Victor did not look happy to have found himself surrounded by water.

It appeared that the Gamemakers had deliberately placed the two _lovebirds_ on opposite sides of the unusual “ _clearing_ ” so that the Cornucopia itself would block their view of each other, what with Peeta standing on his pedestal beside Cashmere who was already taking up a position which would allow her to dive into the water once the countdown finished.

On Cashmere’s other side stood Johanna Mason who was obviously cursing up a storm.

Her best option was to make for the spoke to her left, ignoring both of the vulnerable Tributes in her immediate vicinity until she had secured a weapon from the Cornucopia.

Looking back to the numbers being projected above the horn of the Cornucopia she quickly readied herself as she saw the final numbers rapidly appearing one after another.

**10…**

**9…**

**8…**

**7…**

**6…**

**5…**

**4…**

**3…**

**2…**

**1…**

**0…**

~ * ~

It was a shock to the system when she hit the surprisingly cold water but she didn’t let it slow her down as she began propelling herself through the water towards the rocks to her left, pulling herself up onto the rough surface of what turned out to be an uneven pathway.

She didn’t hesitate for more than a second to set off for the Cornucopia as fast as he legs could carry her, her shoes slipping rather precariously due to the water splashing up onto the rocks but at least she managed to maintain her footing unlike some of the others.

Glancing from side to side to check on the progress of both her allies and her targets she found that gloss hadn’t been so lucky and had been sent tumbling down onto his front whilst Brutus’s pursuit of Katniss Everdeen had been interrupted by the untimely arrival of Oswin, the male morphling addict from District Six, as he pulled himself onto the rocks.

A canon sounded, signalling the first death of the Games although she had no idea whose life had been snuffed out already, although a second canon sounded not long after to announce Oswin’s death after Brutus reached down and effortlessly snapped his neck.

Somehow Katniss had managed to reach the Cornucopia before everyone else, Enobaria included, and had armed herself with a bow and arrow by the time Gloss reached her.

For some unfathomable reason all she did was wound him in the leg despite having the perfect opportunity to kill him, his muscular body falling back into the water with a yelp.

Enobaria finally reached the Cornucopia at the same time as Finnick which forced her to duck away from him as he immediately snatched up a perfectly placed trident, swinging it at her head with obvious intent to maim and/or kill but thankfully her reflexes were quick.

Stumbling away from him she fled around the opposite side of the Cornucopia whilst he, for some reason, made his way straight towards where Katniss Everdeen was stood.

“Good thing we’re allies, right?” Finnick’s voice carried as she picked up a pair of long knives, automatically taking a few swings with them to get used to the feel of them before spinning around and following the path Finnick had just taken. “Where do you think?”

She assumed Katniss must have said something between his two questions but her voice didn’t carry anywhere near as much his did, not that it truly mattered as it seemed someone else had decided to attack at exactly the same moment as she had distracting Finnick.

“Duck!”

Using the fact that Finnick had just launched his trident towards Jayson, of District Five, as a suitable distraction Enobaria threw herself around the edge of the Cornucopia and launched herself towards Katniss…only to pull herself up short to avoid the arrow she fired at her.

The only safe place to go was back into the water.

Staying underwater for as long as she could she finally surfaced almost halfway along the spoke she had previously run along and found herself staring across at where Cashmere was approaching a figure struggling to pull herself out of the water a couple of spokes over.

“I’m sorry, Cecy…”

Despite her seemingly genuine apology and the distress showing on her stunningly beautiful face the female Careers hand were steady and strong as she reached down and pulled Cecelia's head sharply to the left, effortlessly snapping her neck and ending her life.

Her canon sounded whilst Cashmere was gently lowering her lifeless body back into the water, an uncharacteristic tear falling down her usually expressionless face.

“I'm sorry.”

And then, much to her confusion, Cashmere offered the body now floating peacefully on her back in the water the three fingered salute made famous by Katniss Everdeen herself.

“What the…?”

A chilling scream filled the air, drawing her attention back towards the Cornucopia where Brutus had just killed Maybelle, of District Nine, by smashing her head onto the rocks.

Never mind that he was now armed with a spear.

It took a long moment for her canon to sound confirming the fact that yes, she did suffer.

Pulling herself back up onto the spoke Enobaria made her way back towards the Cornucopia, arriving at the cache of weapons moments after Cashmere had finished helping her brother out of the water, already fussing over his injured leg which admittedly looked rather painful what with the broken arrow still protruding from his impressive calf muscle.

“You might want to see to that while we have time,” she recommended, nodding towards the injury before moving to stand beside Brutus who was wiping the blood from his hands. “I counted only four canons which means there’s twenty of us left. We need to get that number down or this will be the most pathetic bloodbath in the history of the Games.”

Brutus grunted in response.

“Chaff made a beeline for the beach,” Gloss offered before gritting his teeth and nodding down to his sister who took hold of the arrow shaft and pulled it from his flesh in one swift motion. “ _Fucking…bugger me…_ I think I saw Hugh for District Ten heading that way too…”

A canon sounded.

“Nineteen,” Brutus muttered, tossing his spear between his hands. “We should head ou–”

Gloss interrupted whatever Brutus had been about to suggest by literally throwing his body forwards past where his sister was still crouched down, snatching the broken arrow shaft away from her so that he could use it on Lorna, jamming it deep into her vulnerable neck.

Her canon sounded a moment later.

“Nice work, pretty boy,” Brutus chuckled deeply as he kicked the body into the water so that it could be easier for the hovercraft to collect when it came. “Now we number eighteen.”

“Looks like Four have allied themselves with Twelve,” Cashmere murmured, nodding towards where Finnick was helping Peeta out of the water while Mags led Katniss towards the nearest stretch of beach. “I knew he’d go along with whatever Mags wanted but this…”

A sharp cry suddenly rang out, followed by a splash of water.

Brutus surged around the edge of the Cornucopia towards where the sounds had come from leaving Enobaria and the two siblings from District One no choice but to follow him.

They found Seeder, of District eleven, struggling to pull herself back out of the water whilst still holding onto the sickle she had obviously managed to grab from the pile of weapons.

Her fellow Victor didn’t even hesitate to draw his arm back and launch the deadly projectile he held into the air, letting out a triumphant yell when it punched its way through the older woman’s side with enough force to drive it all the way through until the sharp point of the spear emerged from the top of her stomach with a seemingly endless spray of blood.

A canon sounded before she'd even begun falling back towards the water.

“Seven- _fucking-_ teen.”

~ * ~

A thorough search of the Cornucopia revealed that the only thing which had been provided this year were weapons; there was nothing even remotely resembling food or water.

They hadn't even supplied them with basic medical equipment.

“They want this one bloody and brutal,” she surmised as the four of them began making camp inside the horn of the Cornucopia where they knew they would be perfectly safe for the night, the position easy to defend. “And over as quickly as possible. No food or medical supplies will get rid of the ones not worth watching. It's all about the fight this year.”

Rather than light a fire they opted to share body heat, one of them sitting on guard whilst the others lay close together and Enobaria was surprise at how clingy Cashmere was when she was asleep, the other woman's arms winding their way around whoever lay next to her.

A trio of canons sounded in the night, waking them all briefly as more lives were ended.

Come the morning they were all hungry and thirsty but they all knew that the easiest way for them to quench their needs was to go on a hunt and impress their sponsors enough to have them send them some supplies, the four of them never having been the best survivalists to enter the Arena and therefore not exactly thrilled with the idea of finding their own food and drinkable water in what appeared to be a tropical jungle of some sort.

Brutus took point, holding his trusty spear in one hand whilst using a machete to cut them a path, whilst she voluntarily brought up the rear with her own varied collection of weapons.

Despite their best efforts they came upon no signs of any of their fellow Tributes and the sun had already begun to make its way across the sky before anything actually happened.

They heard the screaming before anything else.

It was wild and terrified, drawing them down onto the nearby beach so as to figure out where it was coming from and they arrived just in time to see an actual wall of water burst out from the jungle almost directly opposite them before striking what appeared to be invisible walls, at which point it receded leaving a body floating motionlessly in the water.

“What the…?”

A canon sounded.

“Who do you reckon that was?” Cashmere asked softly as they watched the hovercraft appeared out of nowhere in order to collect the body from the water. “I couldn't tell...”

“It waste finitely one of the female Tributes,” her brother answered, his voice just as soft. “Unless it was someone else who screamed like that. If we're lucky it was the _Girl on Fire_ …”

She couldn't help but snort as she caught sight of something happening on the other side of the Arena a little way away from where the wave had just appeared and disappeared.

“No one’s _that_ lucky,” she muttered, pointing with one of her knives to where Katniss could be seen participating in what was obviously a happy reunion for some of them. “Looks like the alliances of Four and Twelve and Three and Seven have just become one big alliance.”

“How kind of them all to come together so we can kill them off nice and easily,” Brutus chuckled darkly, making as though he were going to start running towards them. “Let's…”

“Wait,” Enobaria interrupted him quickly and firmly, ignoring the glare he shot her way. “We should wait and see what they do. Then, when they present the weakest target, we can take them all out nice and swiftly. If there's one thing the Games have taught me is that it is always worth waiting for the perfect opportunity rather than blundering in head first.”

Brutus huffed but voiced no argument.

And so the four of them settled down to wait.

~ * ~

The _perfect opportunity_ finally arrived a short while later when the unusual group of Tribute’s began making their way along one of the rocky spokes towards the Cornucopia.

Moving as discretely as they possibly could the four of them broke cover and began making their way towards the centre of the _“clearing”_ using the metal structure to conceal their group from the other Tributes, the four of them separating so as to spread out their attack.

“I’ll take care of Wiress,” Gloss murmured, pulling out one of his knives before slipping silently into the water and beginning to make his way towards the woman who had drifted apart from the rest of her group, singing to herself as she crouched by the water’s edge.

“We’ll leave Beetee for now,” she murmured softly as they continued to make their way stealthily along the spoke, each of them readying their own weapon of choice. “He’s not a threat to us. Neither is Peeta. Brutus, who would you like? Katniss, Johanna or Finnick?”

“I’ll take Finnick,” he responded with a bloodthirsty smirk. “I’ll take out _lover boy_ as well.”

“Cash?”

“I’ll take Johanna,” she responded after a brief pause, rolling her shoulders in obvious attempt to loosen up her muscles. “You can have the glory of taking out Katniss Everdeen.”

She barely held back a sigh as her fellow Victors began hurrying towards the Cornucopia, splitting up once they’d reached the structure so that they would appear from either side.

Deciding to copy Gloss’s method of approach she slipped carefully into the water of the next wedge over, taking a deep breath before diving down under the surface and kicking off of the spoke in the direction of the Cornucopia, keeping her eyes open despite the way the salt made them sting so badly it almost felt as though her eyeballs were melting out of her skull.

It was surprisingly peaceful under the water, like she was in a completely different world where nothing mattered more than the feel of her body moving through the cool liquid.

Her lungs were almost ready to burst by the time she surfaced, still hidden from view behind the Cornucopia, and by the sounds of things the fighting had already begun.

Wiress was dead, floating in the water and Gloss was nowhere to be seen.

As she watched Johanna launched her axe through the air towards Cashmere, the deadly blade striking her in the centre of her chest and cutting deep between her breasts, the force of the blow sending her crumpling to the ground just as her canon rang out for all to hear.

“Goodbye, Cash…”

Brutus was locked in a deadly battel with both Finnick and Peeta, to the point where he seemed to be struggling to get the upper hand, and so she decided to do something to help.

Ducking back under the surface she swam the final stretch of water to the Cornucopia, surging up out of the water once she’d found a good place for her to climb up onto the rocks, growling through her fang-like teeth as she flung one of her knives towards Finnick.

It sliced across his left bicep, the fabric of his long sleeve offering no protection at all.

She imagined the Capitol would be thrilled by the sight of blood bursting forth from the wound, arcing into the air, but she was annoyed that she’d missed given that she was determined to give anyone she was forced to kill in the ridiculous Games a quick death.

Before she could launch another knife in his direction she became aware of movement to her right and turned just in time to see Katniss fire an arrow towards her, forcing her to dive back into the water as deeply as she possibly could so as to avoid being hit by the projectile.

Surfacing once more she caught sight of Brutus making a calculated retreat given that the fight had not been going their way and set about doing the same, pulling herself up onto the nearest spoke and sprinting towards the shoreline just as a loud _“thunk”_ filled the air.

Moments later the water began to churn on either side of the spoke and the Tributes left back at the Cornucopia began to scream loudly, prompting her to pause and look back.

The Cornucopia, along with the rocks upon which it rested, was spinning.

“What the…?”

She was infinitely relieved that she had manged to escape that particular trick of the Gamemakers, the spokes unaffected by the chaotic movement of the Cornucopia.

A whistle pierced the air and she looked over to see Brutus beckoning towards her.

Nodding in his direction she took off at a run once more and as soon as her feet touched the sand on the shoreline she turned and began making her way towards him, the Cornucopia slowing down until finally it stopped moving and locked in place with another _“thunk.”_

“Did you see what happened to Gloss?” she asked softly as she jogged up to her fellow Victor, brushing her wet hair back off of her face. “I saw Cashmere go down but not…”

“Arrow to the chest,” Brutus grunted. “No canon but I doubt he’ll survive long.”

She winced.

A slow and painful death.

No one, not even a Career, deserved an end like that.

She hoped, honestly and truly, that if she had to die in these Games it would be quick.

~ * ~

Deciding that their best possible option was to risk the Cornucopia once more Enobaria and Brutus returned just after the sky began to darken, replacing the weapons they had lost and settling in for the night huddled together to combat the almost freezing temperatures.

They took turns sleeping so that they were as refreshed as they could possibly be when the sun began to rise inside the Arena, bringing with it a much appreciated parachute filled with warm buttered bread and two canteens of water, a reward for their performance so far.

Once the bread had been eaten and half the water drunk they set about tending to their wounds as best they could with no real supplies, Brutus stripping off his shirt to use as bandages for the scrapes on his legs while Enobaria used one of her knifes to turn her long sleeved top into a sleeveless crop top, using the fabric this provided as her own bandages.

This done they arms themselves with as many weapons as they could possibly carry, secured their canteens of water to the belts they'd found with the swords, and set out for another day of hunting, hoping to avenge the loss of Cashmere as well as perhaps finding Gloss in order to put him out of his misery knowing that he wouldn't survive long with his wounds.

~ * ~

It was mid-afternoon before they had any luck, finding an obvious trail not too far away from the beach in one of the sections which they were able to follow to its source.

“Brutus,” Chaff greeted the two of them calmly from where he was leaning casually against the base of a tree, his arms crossed over his chest showing off his stump. “Enobaria.”

“Chaff,” she returned the greeting softly. “You're not looking so good, old man.”

“Less of the old, thank you,” Chaff responded with a chuckle, making a show of patting his protruding belly so that it wobbled. “I'm in the prime of my life, I'll have you know.”

Brutus snorted loudly, shaking his head almost ruefully as he brought his arm back and took aim with his spear, pausing at the last moment to share a look with Enobaria who nodded.

“Have a drink for me if either of you manage to get out of here alive…”

Chaff’s final words were cut off by the sound of the spear sliding deep into his chest, his eyes glazing over almost immediately and blood began to drip from his open mouth.

A cannon sounded.

~ * ~

It had been painfully easy for them to follow Katniss and her group of _friends_ once they left the relatively safety on the beach, heading into whatever untold dangers the jungle held.

She and Brutus had moved silently through the trees, keeping themselves on a course parallel to that of their targets, until they'd reached a small clearing surrounding a large tree at which point they'd picked a suitably secluded spot to observe the unusual group.

“Minimal charring,” Beetee announced, his voice causing both she and her fellow Career to frown as they realised that he was talking about the _tree_. “Impressive conductor.”

“What is he on about?”

Brutus's voice was little more than a hiss so as not to give away their position.

“Don't look at me,” she hissed back, frowning as she heard a twig snap. “Did you hear that?”

“Let's get started,” Beetee announced, his voice carrying clearly as Brutus merely shrugged in response to her question, obviously not that fussed. “Typically a lightning strike contains five million joules of energy. We don't want to be in the vicinity when this hits.”

Lightning?

Could this…could this be the source of the lightning they'd seen and heard every night?

“You two girls take this. Unspool it carefully,” Beetee ordered, holding out what looked like a thick roll of wire for Johanna to take. “Make sure the entire coil is in the water, understand? Then head to the tree in the two o'clock sector. We’ll meet you there.”

She felt herself beginning to frown.

What in Snow’s name were they planning to do?

Lightning?

_Make sure the entire coil is in the water?_

What the…?

“I'm going to go with them as a guard.”

Peeta was obviously trying to sound firm but he failed spectacularly.

“No,” Beetee counted the younger man instantly, shaking his head as he turned to face the two from District Twelve who had moved to stand beside each other as soon as the group had come to a halt. “No, no, no, you're staying here to protect me and the tree.”

…protect the _tree_?

Seriously, what the _fuck_ were they planning?

“No, I need to go with her.”

“There are two Careers out there,” Beetee pointed out and automatically both she and Brutus adjusted their grips on their weapons. “Therefore I need to two guards.”

“As if we'd start with him,” Brutus scoffed, disgusted by the other man’s lack of understanding in regards to Career tactics. “I say we follow the girls when they do what he wants them to do. Catch them by surprise. Get rid of _Little Miss Everdeen_ once and for all.”

“Agreed.”

If she was honest she hoped that one of them got taken out during the fight with either the girls or the other three if only so that it didn't come down to the two of them.

Although, given that his canon still hadn't sounded, there was still a chance that Gloss might emerge the Victor once more if all of them were eliminated during the next couple of hours.

“Finnick can protect you just fine on his own.”

“Yeah, why can't Finnick and Johanna stay with you?” Katniss's distinct voice piped up in agreement with her “ _husbands_ ” suggestion. “Peeta and I will take the coil.”

Beetee did not seem impressed by the way his instructions were being argued with.

“You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?”

“It's his plan,” Johanna pointed out simply. “We all agreed to it.”

“Is there a problem here?”

It was Finnick who finally picked up on the weird level of tension growing between their small group, fingering the deadly blades of his trident as he looked back and forth between Katniss, Peeta, Johanna and Beetee with a frown marring his handsome features.

Enobaria couldn't help but smirk.

If things continued the way they seemed to be heading she and Brutus would only have to do half the work they were planning to do, what with the way the alliance was splintering before their eyes and turning on each other just like the Career packs always did in the end.

“Excellent question…”

Beetee's voice was heavy with suspicion as he turned his bespectacled gaze on Katniss.

“No,” the girl in question hurried to answer them. “There's no problem.”

This time she couldn't hold back the soft snort of disbelief.

Oh, there was definitely a problem, one that she and Brutus would have no problem exploiting to their advantage when they attacked the various members of the alliance.

~ * ~

They hung back a little bit as they followed Johanna and Katniss, a task made almost painfully easy by the fact that they were laying an actual wire trail for them to follow.

“Come on. I want to put as much distance between me and this beach as possible,” Johanna muttered, glancing back at where Katniss was carefully making sure that the wire unspooled smoothly like it was supposed to. “Frying is not how I want to go.”

Having reached what they decided would be a suitable spot to attack from, the upper ground and therefore the advantage being theirs, Brutus calmly placed his foot down on top of the wire where it rested against a rocky outcropping and prepared to slice through it with the deadly blade of the machete he’d acquired from Chaff's body after they'd killed him.

She, meanwhile, prepared to launch herself towards the other two young women.

“There's something…” Katniss muttered, tugging at the wire for a long moment whilst glancing back the way they had come, her confusion and fear showing on her pretty face.

Brutus leaned out of the shadows and into the light cast down upon them by the artificial moon, revealing himself to Katniss and Johanna as he sliced through the wire with ease.

Growling loudly, her deadly teeth on display thanks to her practically feral snarl, she climbed over the rocks with ease and dropped down into the little valley where she was met with the surprising image of Johanna Mason seemingly turning on her own ally, cutting her throat as she lay on the ground stunned by what she guessed had been an axe to her head.

“You always did know how to surprise people, didn't you, Johanna?” she chuckled deeply as the young woman I question flung her bloodstained axe towards Brutus. “Turning traitor…”

Brutus dodged the axe with ease.

“One less for us to worry about,” Brutus chuckled, surging towards Johanna who glanced down at the body at her feet almost regretfully before taking off quickly. “Come on!”

Following after her bloodthirsty friend, allowing him to follow the obvious signs left behind by Johanna in her haste to get away from them, she heard a familiar voice call out loudly.

“Johanna? Johanna! Where are you?!”

Finnick.

A familiar battle cry drew her attention back to her friend who had just launched himself at the petite figure of Johanna who had obviously grown tired of running and had stopped in a small clearing with a pathetic stream running through it to face down her opponents.

She only had one axe left.

Still she managed to hold of Brutus’ initial attacking, knocking aside his spear and slicing at the bulging muscle of his upper arm with the blade of her axe, drawing a thin line of blood.

As the two separated, spinning away from each other, Enobaria darted forwards and managed to drag one of her blades across Johanna's side, drawing a similar line of blood.

Johanna screamed in pain, swinging her axe towards Enobaria's neck but she dropped and rolled out of the way just in time, springing back to her feet as Brutus struck Johanna in the back of her head with the butt of his spear with enough force to send her flying forwards into the path of Enobaria's second blade, this time drawing a line of blood on her thigh.

This time when she struck out it was with a backhanded swing and, by nothing more than pure luck on her part, the very tip of her axe handle struck Enobaria in the temple.

It wasn't enough force to send her flying but it was enough to stun her for a moment.

Thankfully Brutus was there to inadvertently protect her from further attack as he swung at Johanna with the point of his spear, catching her cheek and slicing it completely open.

She could feel blood running down the side of her face but she could do nothing about it as Finnick chose that exact moment to literally stumble upon them, trusty trident in hand.

With Brutus still engaged with Johanna who was screaming like a banshee it was up to Enobaria to take on the Capitol's favourite Victor, firstly by flinging a knife at his shoulder.

It struck deep, his reflexes a little slow as he took in Johanna's predicament, but he pulled it out automatically, toddling it aside just as a loud explosion was heard by all four of them.

“What the…?”

It was Enobaria herself who's reflexes were a little slow to respond to Finnick's counter attack, still confused by the unexpected explosion, and found herself being speared by the three deadly point so his trident, pain exploding from her thigh where he'd targeted her.

Letting out a scream of agony her hands moved automatically, flinging another blade towards him although this time she aimed for his face, the blade slicing along his jawline as he flinched away from her before severing a chunk of his hair as it continued on past him.

Gritting her teeth against the pain she pulled her body away from him, blood pouring from the trio of deep wounds to her thigh as his firm grip on his weapon resulted in the blades being pulled from her flesh by her own movement even as he pressed a hand to his jaw.

Fuck…

That hurt…

Pulling two more blades from the belt about her waist, these ones slightly longer and meant for fighting rather than throwing, she locked the blades in front of her body in an ‘X’ so as to block his downwards swing and trap the deadly trident in place while she delivered a powerful kick to his genitals with her good leg, her bad leg almost buckling underneath her.

Finnick cried out, stumbling backwards just as Brutus succeeded in disarming Johanna, flinging her axe just out of her reach whilst using his bulkier body to pin her to the ground.

He brought the point of his spear up to her throat.

And yet she wasn't even looking at him, she was staring in horror towards the trees.

“Peeta! Peeta! Get out of here!”

~ * ~

She wasn't entirely sure what had happened.

One minute she was focused on driving her long blades towards Finnick as he recovered from the pain of her foot crushing his genitals, successfully drawing blood in numerous places before he was finally able to bring up his trident to deflect her knives, and the next Brutus let out a guttural cry of pain as a machete was buried into the flesh of his neck.

She turned, her eyes going wide as she saw the gentle boy from District Twelve standing over her friend still clutching at the handle of the blade he had just used against Brutus.

There was blood everywhere.

It erupted from the wound like a fountain, covering both Peeta and Johanna in the few seconds it took for the cannon to sound loudly as Brutus's body slumped to the ground.

_“Brutus!”_

The red hazes which settled over her vision had nothing to do with the blood trickling into her eyes and everything to do with the rage burning within her, driving her to abandon her fight with Finnick in favour of taking on the defenceless boy who had just killed her friend.

Johanna began to struggle out from underneath Brutus's body, desperately trying to get hold of the axe lying on the ground between her and Peeta, but it was too late to avoid her attack and all he could do was twist out of the way and slam his hip into Enobaria's stomach.

They tumbled to the ground, a tangle of limbs and Peeta grabbed hold of her wrists in order to keep the blades she held away from his body but there was only so much he could do to avoid her razor sharp teeth as she snapped precariously close to his vulnerable neck.

For the first time she was grateful to the Capitol regarding the _alterations_ they had made following her first Games in regards to her teeth as the sharp points drew blood on his neck.

A solid weight slammed into her side, knocking her off of the boy, and once she had rolled back onto her feet she spun around to face Johanna who had evidently freed herself from the weight of Brutus’s dead body and armed herself with her bloodstained axe once more.

“Finnick!” the younger woman screamed as she charged towards Enobaria, the blade of her axe scraping along the long blade of the knife the Career used to deflect it. “Go! Find Katniss! Help Beetee finish the plan! Peeta and I can take care of old _sharp tooth_ here!”

She'd been called that hundreds of times before and yet for some reason this time it made her growl, baring her golden fangs stained red with the boys blood towards her opponent.

Finnick was obviously torn between wanting to help his friend and wanting to obey her.

In the end Peeta, now armed with his machete having finally managed to pull it free of Brutus's neck, made his decision for him by turning and screaming at the top of his voice.

“Go!”

~ * ~

Her thigh was absolute agony, burning fiercely whenever she put any weight on her leg but she had no other choice as she faced off against both of her remaining opponents.

If she had to die inside this Arena then she would die fighting.

Relying on the skills she had learnt over the years, her mind becoming clouded by both the pain and the blood loss, she was somewhat amazed to find herself blocking almost all of their attacks, twisting her body in a deadly dance in order to strike back at them.

All three of them succeeded in drawing blood at one point or another.

She had no idea how long she could keep this up but there was no question of her giving up.

_They will remember me…_

A well timed thrust sent one of her blades sliding clean through Johanna's upper arm, forcing her to abandon it in favour of drawing another, smaller, knife from her belt.

Johanna's response was a litany of curses as she stumbled backwards.

_They will remember my name…_

Blocking a low blow from Peeta with her remaining long knife she twisted, kicking the back of his knee at the same time as slashing long line across his back with her smaller blade.

He stumbled, crying out in startled pain, before spinning to face her once more.

Moving forwards she used her long blade to lock the machete against a nearby tree and was just about to plunge her knife into his vulnerable chest, his hand reaching out for her wrist, when an impossibly explosion suddenly filled the air and an invisible shockwave lifted all three of them off of their feet like they were pieces of paper caught up in a breeze.

There was nothing she could do to stop her body from slamming into one of the many trees surrounding them, a scream bursting out of her mouth as her back took the worst of the impact before her head collided with one of the thick branches and everything went black.

~ * ~

If she was completely honest she hadn't been expecting to wake up at all.

She certainly hadn't been expecting to find President Coriolanus Snow sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair beside her bed, his hands resting on his delicate looking cane.

A quick glance around her confirmed the fact that she was inside the so called _‘Tribute Hospital’_ inside the bowels of the Training Centre, the place where the Victors were patched up between being retrieved from the Arena and put on display in the Capitol.

“Enobaria, my dear, we have known each other for a number of years now,” President Snow began softly, his voice sending a shiver of fear down her spine and drawing her attention back to him without even pausing to check out what shape she was in. “I like to think we know each other well enough not to lie to one another so I shall simply come out and ask you the question that has been pestering me for the last few days – were you or were you not involved in the plot against the Capitol which was instigated by Katniss Everdeen?”

Her response was immediate and completely automatic.

“Plot?” she repeated with a confused frown. “What plot?”

For a long moment he seemed intent on staring into her very soul before he suddenly seemed to relax, letting out a deep sigh as his posture softened significantly in the chair.

“Katniss Everdeen and a number of other Victors worked together to destroy the Arena, subsequently throwing Panem into chaos by instigating riots and general unrest.”

She blinked in shock.

“…is that what that explosion was?”

“Yes,” he confirmed shortly. “The footage of Miss Everdeen damaging the Arena in such a grievous way has since been erased, for the good of the country, you understand.”

A secret plot against the Capitol?

Well, that certainly explained the number of unexpected alliances inside the Arena…

“We were able to pick up yourself, Johanna Mason and Peeta Mellark from what remained of the Arena,” President Snow continued calmly, as though he were discussing the weather. “They have subsequently been detained as active participants in the plot and will be dealt with accordingly. Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair, Beetee Latier and Gloss Peridotte were apparently picked up by a rogue hovercraft and are now considered fugitive traitors.”

“ _Gloss_?” she found herself scoffing loudly. “Gloss would never do anything like that!”

“And yet he did, my dear,” the older man who had controlled her life murmured, attempting to sound both apologetic and sincere. “We are unsure how many Victors were involved. Some we know for certain, such as Haymitch Abernathy, while others we suspect.”

Why didn't it surprise her that that old soak had something to do with all of this?

“Each will be questioned during the next few weeks,” he continued with his explanation calmly as he rose from the uncomfortable seat, fixing his clothing as he did so in order to maintain his perfect appearance. “I am currently inclined to believe that you entered the Arena without any knowledge of their traitorous intentions and, unless I am proven otherwise, you will be free to serve the Capitol as is required of you as the Victor of the 75th Hunger Games. Rest assured, however, that should my inclinations prove false you shall suffer the same fate as the traitors we have under lock and key in the detention centre.”

…so basically it was play along with his demands and she would be left alone?

Huh.

Wasn't that oddly familiar?

Knowing that it was expected of her she nodded in response to his statement.

“Thank you,” she murmured as respectfully as she could. “For the trust you've place in me.”

“Don't make me regret it.”

He left after offering her a completely cold look which promised retribution should she dare to put a toe out of line and then she was alone in the hospital room, machines beeping around her and her body swathed in bandages with her injured leg resting on pillows.

A plot against the Capitol…

Would she have become involved if she'd known about it?

Would she have stood by them against the oppression of the Capitol?

“I guess we’ll never know now…”

No.

Now she had another part to play…

~ * ~

 **A/N** Well, that was rather interesting to write. Finding a Careers perspective of the Arena is a very strange thing to do, particularly when that Career is the version of Enobaria I've created. I hope you weren't disappointed. One more (I'm expecting long) chapter to go. X


	5. AFTER

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own the Hunger Games. I’m just borrowing them for a little bit.

 **Warnings:** Violence, Mild Language, Implied Forced Prostitution

**~ REMEMBER MY NAME ~**

**~ AFTER ~**

**“Ladies and Gentlemen!”** Caesar's familiar voice boomed through the sound system, demanding the attention of the restless audience. **“Please show your appreciation for the Victor of the 75th Hunger Games, the Third Quarter Quell – Enobaria!”**

It was hard to believe she was here doing this all over again.

And yet here she was, striding out onto the vast stage in the outfit her stylist, Kynthia, had carefully chosen for her in order to participate in her _Victor’s Interview_ with Caesar Flickerman before being whisked away to participate in the official coronation ceremony.

Compared with some of the things she'd been forced to wear over the years this one actually wasn't too bad; a burgundy coloured floor length gown which completely exposed her shoulders and had sleeves which were almost as long as the dress itself which had been designed to hang like wings, contrasting with the tight “mermaid-tail” design of the gown.

It was painfully obvious that they were trying to replace the image of Katniss’ wedding gown transforming into a _Mockingjay_ by forcing her to dress like some sort of winged creature.

As though that was really going to work…

 **“Thank you, Caesar,”** she murmured politely as he guided her to her seat before dropping down into his own without introducing anyone this year. **“It's lovely to see you again.”**

 **“I can't tell you how much of a pleasure it is to see you again,”** Caesar gushed dramatically, flopping back into his uncomfortable looking seat as though his emotions had gotten the better of him. **“After all, it was such an emotional Games for us all, wasn't it folks?”**

Predictably the audience were all too happy to voice their agreement.

Oh, yes, she could well imagine how _emotional_ it had been for them…

 **“And with such an unpleasant end, so many of our beloved Victors betraying those who cared for them the most,”** Caesar announced, his words obviously carefully rehearsed as he straightened himself back into his usually rigid position. **“But not you, my dear, not you.”**

 **“As you said, Caesar, you are the people who care about me the most,”** she managed to force the words out despite the way her stomach twisted almost painfully in opposition to the part she was being forced to play. **“I could never even _think_ of betraying all of you.” **

Once again the audience voice their agreement and approval, calling out her name.

 **“I like to think that even if things had played out differently we would still be sat here having this conversation today,”** Caesar admitted, acting as though it were supposed to be a private comment between the two of them. **“You always were my favourite Victor.”**

 **“Thank you, Caesar,”** she responded with a deadly smile, choosing not to call him on such a barefaced lie given how everyone had seen how he had always fawned over Katniss. No doubt the host was having to secure his safety just as she was. **“I'd like to think so to...”**

Everyone involved in the Hunger Games were all playing their part to keep themselves safe.

Despite having known about the fact that the Victors were being _“detained and questioned”_ not seeing any of them around the Training Centre had been unnerving to say the least but what had been even more disturbing was when she realised that, apart from those assigned to District Two, she hadn't seen a single solitary District Escort, Stylist or Prep-Team.

Were they, citizens of the Capitol, under suspicion as well?

If so then absolutely no one was safe…

 **“As much as I'm enjoying our conversation we really must return to business,”** Caesar announced, turning to smile into one of the cameras. **“Let's watch this year’s highlights.”**

Given how much the footage had been edited so as not to include anything which could be linked to the supposed plot against the Capitol it was like watching a completely different Hunger Games, one that held no unusual alliances or surprises and ended predictably with a lone Career Tribute emerging victorious after a brutal fight “to the death” on the final day.

It was such a…a fabrication of the truth that she almost burst out laughing.

Particularly when it came to the last few moments inside the Arena where they focused entirely on the fight between the Victors of District Two and Johanna, Finnick and Peeta, analysing every detail, every move that any of them made before suddenly cutting just before the explosion had hit them to what was obviously stock footage of her retrieval from her first Games which had been edited so much that as long as you didn't look too closely you could believe it had been recorded a few days previously, the “ _electronic interference_ ” which had supposedly cut off the live broadcast making it impossible to see much detail.

 **“Wasn't that the most exciting climax you've ever seen, folks?”** Caesar gushed loudly once the screen had cleared, receiving rapturous applause in response. **“Now, we mustn't keep you as you've got an important date to keep so, ladies and gentlemen, once again I ask you to show your appreciation for the Victor of the 75th Hunger Games – Enobaria!”**

~ * ~

Following what had been reported as the “ _most exciting crowning ceremony in the history of the Games_ ” with people literally scrambling to get the best seats in the _Avenue of Tributes_ so that they could witness the crowning of “ _Panem's most loyal Victor_ ” as she'd been dubbed by one of the countless reporters ego made a living from the Hunger Games she had been whisked back to the Training Centre where she was informed of a change of plan.

“What do you mean?”

“The President believes that, for your safety, it would be best if you remain in the Capitol for the time being,” the Capitol Official, dressed in his red and grey uniform. “The civil unrest in the Districts is most worrying, as you no doubt understand, so rather than send you into an unsafe environment you are to be granted permission to stay here in the _Training Centre_.”

For a long moment she was completely speechless as her brain processed this information.

They weren't letting her go home?

“It would also help ease the civil unrest if you would be willing to make a few appearances sharing your views publicly, voicing your support for the Capitol between now and your Victory Tour,” he continued, oblivious of the internal struggle she was going through. “As such your District Escort, Stylist and Prep-Team have been instructed to remain with you.”

_They weren't letting her go home._

“I'm glad you understand, Miss Hume,” the official concluded happily in spite of the fact that she hadn't spoken a single word. “We’ll be in touch regarding your future appointments.”

He left without saying another word, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he had just pulled what was left of her world out from underneath her feet in one swift motion.

She had been relying on the fact that she would soon be returning to the relative safety of her own home in the Victors Village of District Two to get her through the last few days.

And now…

“They aren't letting me go home…”

Stumbling away from the main room of the luxury apartment District Two's popularity afforded them in the Tribute Centre she made her way to her bedroom, physically flinching away from the case she'd packed in preparation for her departure and made her way into the en suite bathroom she had been given in order to relinquish control of her stomach.

She felt like a little girl again, like she had the day she realised that her parents didn't love her like parents were supposed to do and she could do nothing to hold back her tears as she heaved violently, retching again and again until there was literally nothing left to bring up.

Lost.

That was the only word she could think of to describe her true feelings right then.

She was lost, swallowed up by the new expectations being laid upon her on top of the old expectations she'd learnt to live with, conflicted by her feelings towards the “rebels” who she knew were only doing what they believed in but had brought all this pain and confusion down upon her with their actions and completely unsure of what the future held for her.

And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

~ * ~

Dressed in what passed for the height of Capitol fashion, a silver metallic bodice shaped like hundreds of feathers and a full pleated white tulle skirt which completely his her ridiculously uncomfortable shoes from view, Enobaria flashed her “escort” for the evening a smile as she was led into the ballroom where the celebration was being held in honour of the selection of a new Head Gamemaker having been made after Plutarch Heavensbee’s defection.

It had only been two weeks since she was crowned a Victor for the second time and already she had been _required_ to attend nine events to show her support for the Capitol whilst also meeting up with some of her regular _clients_ in order to renew her duties to the circuit.

Not that the circuit really existed any more, given that she was the only left working.

Throughout the course of the tedious evening she smiled and flirted and obediently agreed with everything that was said regarding the _dissidents_ causing trouble in the Districts and the divine right if the Capitol, all the while learning as much as she could about the new Head Gamemaker, Solonius Dewitt, who was of a similar age and stature to President Snow although he wore a ridiculous handlebar moustache above his top lip with the ends curled.

He'd been a Gamemaker for years and had delighted in informing her that he'd _personally_ had a hand in designing the Arena for the 62nd Hunger Games and had been impressed by both of her performances, all the while twirling the ends of his blue tinted moustache around his fingertips and licking his lips as though she were a delicious meal laid out for him.

She was unsurprised when a few days later his name appeared on her _client_ list.

President Snow himself only stayed a short while at the celebration, the high security threat restricting his movements more than ever which was something of a blessing for her.

~ * ~

She had been attending a private party with one of her _clients_ and a few of his closest friends when the pornographic film, so painfully _Capitol_ that it had almost made her laugh, was interrupted by a broadcast featuring none other than Katniss Everdeen herself.

“What the…?” Vetticus, her _client_ , cried out as he removed himself from his previous position on top of her in order to snatch up the remote control. “It's on every channel…”

 **“I want the Rebels to know that I'm alive. That I'm in District Eight where the Capitol just bombed a hospital filled with unarmed men, women and children,”** Katniss announced from the screen, the camera panning to show the burning rubble behind her as well as the figures of some of her fellow rebels. **“And there will be no survivors.”**

“Shit…”

Thankfully all of the Capitol men had moved closer to the screen, voicing their disbelief in regards to her claims and the footage so none of them heard her shocked exclamation as she was shown, for the first time, how the Capitol were _dealing_ with the uprisings.

 **“If you think for one second that the Capitol will ever treat us fairly then you are lying to yourselves,”** Katniss continued on the screen, gesturing the uncontrollable flames behind her. **“Because we know who they are and what they do. _This_ is what they do!” **

Vetticus, one of the ministers for broadcasting, jumped up from his spot on the bed and stormed over to the phone in order to demand to know “what the _hell_ was going on!?!”

 **“And we must fight back,”** Katniss called out from the screen as she stumbled across to what appeared to be the wreckage of a Capitol hovercraft, also burning wildly. **“I have a message for President Snow. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our Districts to the ground. But do you see that? Fire is catching and if we burn, you burn with us!”**

A shot of Katniss firing an arrow into the air was swiftly followed by footage of the hovercraft being struck in mid-air by some sort of explosion, causing it to tumble out of the sky and crash in a burst of flames which quickly spread to cover the entire holo-screen.

This was followed, somewhat predictably, by an image of the pin Katniss had worn as her token although this too was on fire as the words _“JOIN THE MOCKINGJAY”_ appeared.

Finally that annoying whistle she and her little ally in the 74th Hunger Games had started played, the four individual notes crystal clear as the words became _“JOIN THE FIGHT.”_

Almost immediately following this the screen returned to the image of the Capitol woman pretending to fall for the fake Tributes seductions, her moans echoing until the screen was shut off and Enobaria was dismissed with an angry shout as Vetticus and his friends hurried to dress having obviously been summoned to deal with what had just happened.

She kept her smile to herself as she dressed, not bothering to put on her underwear or shoes, and slipped out of the apartment and down to the car which was waiting for her amidst the confused Capitolites who were all discussing the video they'd just seen.

It was only once she was back in her room that she allowed herself to chuckle softly.

In spite of everything she had to amped it that Katniss Everdeen had balls.

Oh, it would probably get them all killed in the end, but she had to admire the girls spirit.

Hours later she was summoned to film what turned out the first of many “counterattack” propaganda videos designed to reassure the citizens of the Capitol and denounce the rebels claims as “complete and utter falsehoods designed to trick and deceive the loyalists.”

She read the lines as she was expected to but all the while she had realised something.

If Haymitch or even Katniss had approached her to join them she would have said yes.

She would have said _yes_!

~ * ~

It was unusual for her to be allowed a day off and so, when one happened, she took full advantage of the fact that she had nowhere to be and no act to keep up and ran herself an almost painfully hot bubble bath, poured herself an enormous glass of wine and immersed herself in the steaming water with a trashy Capitol romance movie playing on the far wall.

Of course the relaxing atmosphere couldn't last.

**“We interrupt your scheduled program for an important interview.”**

It hadn't been a particularly good movie, the storyline weak and the acting predictably pathetic, but anything was better than more “important” broadcasts about the rebellion.

Only that wasn't what appeared on the screen.

 **“Greetings, people of Panem,”** Caesar Flickerman offered the camera in a remarkably serious tone, similar to the one he used when a Tribute was having difficulty during their interview. **“I'm here with Peeta Mellark, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games, who has agreed to offer us some more insight into the mind of Katniss Everdeen. She was arguably our favourite Tribute. And I think that's what I find most astonishing is that this girl was so adored in the Capitol. And I think for you, Peeta, it must be particularly painful.”**

She couldn't help but gasp softly, leaning up out of the still steaming water as she took in his significantly altered appearance. It wasn't common knowledge that Peeta and Johanna were still being questioned about their participation in the destruction of the Arena but Enobaria was _friends_ with several officials and high ranking Peacekeepers who just loved to brag and gossip about what they had done to them or learned from them during their last session.

**“I wish I could give this rose to you, Katniss…”**

“You poor boy…” she couldn't help but murmur sympathetically as she recognised the dull look in his eyes, the shaking voice and trembling hands. “They've finally broken you too…”

 **“A sweet gesture for a girl ego has inspired such violence. You must love her very much to be able to forgive her,”** Caesar murmured, his sympathy significantly less genuine than her own despite his acting skills. **“I don't think that I could. Unless, of course, Peeta, you think that perhaps she's being forced into saying things that she doesn't even understand.”**

 **“Yeah,”** Peeta gasped, visibly perking up on the screen as he finally looked away from the perfectly formed white rose he held in his hands. One of Snow’s roses, no doubt, cultivated in his private greenhouse. **“Yeah, that's exactly what I think. I think they're using her to whip up the Rebels. I doubt she even knows what's happening and what's really at stake.”**

 **“Now, Peeta, I doubt the Rebels will ever let her see this but if they do what would you say to her?”** Caesar enquired, leaning forwards in his chair as he attempted to control his eagerness. No doubt he was hoping for something emotional and memorable, a good show for the audience. **“To Katniss Everdeen, the once sweet Katniss Everdeen.”**

Peeta frowned thoughtfully.

**“What would you say to her?”**

**“I would…I would tell her to think for herself,”** Peeta finally answered softly, lifting his tortured gaze to look directly into the camera for the first time. **“Don't be a fool, Katniss. I know you never wanted the rebellion. The things that you did in the Games were never intended to start all of this. The Rebels have made you into something that you're not, something that could destroy all of us. So if you have any power or any say in what they do or how they use you please, please urge them to stop this war before it's too late.”**

Now there was a carefully scripted response if she'd ever heard one.

“I wonder which Capitol minion was responsible for writing that particular gem,” she mused, smirking to herself as she thought back on some of the tripe she'd been forced to recite in recent weeks. “Perhaps I should request they start writing my interview answers as well...”

 **“And ask yourself, can you trust the people you're working with?”** Peeta finished quickly, slumping back in his seat, visibly exhausted. **“Do you know what they really want?”**

 **“Thank you, Peeta Mellark, for these revelations about the real Mockingjay,”** Caesar wrapped up the interview seriously before turning to offer the camera and therefore the people watching a beaming smile. **“And now we return you to your scheduled program.”**

By the time she emerged from her bath, the water long since cooled, a request for her presence at a party that evening had been delivered. So much for her day off…

~ * ~

It was only a couple of days later that she was collected from her apartment inside the Tribute Centre by an unnecessarily large group of Peacekeepers under the express orders of President Snow who had “ _requested she participate in an interview with Caesar Flickerman_ ” following yet another series of attacks in the Districts. He'd even told her what to wear.

White.

He didn't care if it was a dress, a top and a skirt or even a bodysuit so long as it was white.

A quick limousine ride later and she was being escorted into the Presidential Mansion where Caesar and his camera crew awaited her, along with a professional auto-cue machine which she was informed would contain the answers to all of his questions for her as she had been given no time to learn the required responses, what with this being a last minute addition brought on intersperse to the power cut the Capitol had experienced the previous evening.

“Ready?”

She nodded along with Caesar, settling back into the surprisingly uncomfortable chair.

“Ok, we're live in five, four, three, two, one. Go.”

Caesar offered the camera a fake smile before turning to look across at her, his hands holding the blank prompt cards he'd been given to hold but not use steady in his lap.

**“So, Enobaria, what do you think about these latest terrorist actions?”**

The auto-cue had been set up so that the words she was expected to say were projected in the air between where Caesar say and the camera meaning that she would be able to see them whether she was facing the host of the Hunger Games or addressing the camera.

**“I think it's a shame, Caesar, that people are so easily swept along by the convictions and agendas of other, particularly when those others care only about themselves.”**

_Or coerced into doing so with the threat of torture and/or death_ , she thought to herself as she recalled her current situation. She was, after all, nothing more than Snows puppet.

**“You're speaking of the Rebels, of course?”**

**“Of course, Caesar,”** she confirmed quickly, playing the part of Capitol Loyalist just as was expected of her. It was a part she was getting quite good at portraying, apparently, if the amount of information given to her by her friends was anything to go by. They told her anything and everything, from gossip to state secrets. **“President Snow wishes to see an end these atrocities. I haven't seen any of the Rebels proclaiming their desire for peace.”**

_Because they know that peace is impossible with Preside Snow still breathing…_

**“They are happy with the way things are,”** she continued to read dutifully. **“With other people dying for their cause whilst they're tucked up safe in their hidden bunker.”**

Hidden bunker…

Wait…

What had her client last night said?

_“Those idiots in District Thirteen think their bunker is such a secret but we know exactly where it is. We’re going to destroy them and they'll never see it coming. Get them distracted with a nice piece of propaganda, something juicy, and then drop a tonne of bombs on them.”_

Shit…

Was _this_ the nice piece of propaganda he was talking about? The distraction?

Caesar hummed thoughtfully, interrupting her frantic thoughts and drawing her attention back to the words now flashing on the auto-cue in order to get her attention.

 **“Do you remember the speech that President Snow gave back when all of this unrest began? I do,”** she recited once more although her mind was only half focused on getting the words right. The other half was beginning to panic about the possibility of a forthcoming attack. **_“Since the Dark Days, Panem has had an unprecedented era of peace. It is a peace built upon cooperation and a respect for law and order. Those who choose this destructive path, your actions are based on a misunderstanding of how we have survived. Together.”_**

Hadn't she admitted, even if only to herself, that she would have joined their cause?

She…she had to find a way to earn them and damn the consequences. After all what did she really have to lose? Her life wasn't her own anyway so what did it matter if she was caught?

 ** _“It is a contract. Each District supplies the Capitol, like blood to a heart. In return the Capitol provides order and security. To refuse work is to put the entire system in danger. The Capitol is the bearing heart of Panem. Nothing can survive without a heart,”_** she continued softly, gazing towards the camera for a moment before looking back towards the Capitol citizen interviewing her. He looked disturbingly excited by the speech. **“If only these poor fools following these misguided terrorists could believe those words as we do.”**

And if only the Rebels would believe her if she tried to warn them.

 **“Thank you for your honesty, Enobaria. I hope your words go a long way in ending this mindless conflict before more unnecessary lives are lost,”** Caesars tone made it clear that her portion of the interview was over and done with. **“Now stay tuned, folks, as we have another special interview coming up shortly with none other than Peeta Mellark himself.”**

Peeta?

An idea literally burst into life inside her brain – no, the Rebels might not believe him after the interviews he had been forced to give previously but Katniss Everdeen certainly would.

All she had to do was find a way to warn Peeta.

But how?

Fate, it seemed, was on her side for once in her miserable life as when she was escorted from the room where the interview had taken place she found herself walking down a long corridor towards a figure stumbling unsteadily ahead of another group of Peacekeepers.

Peeta.

For once she was glad of the acts and persona she had been forced to adopt as it meant that none of the Peacekeepers reacted with anything more than mild annoyance when she pretended to stumble out of the ridiculous heels she'd worn with her dress, managing to ensure that she fell against the younger Victor who, in his weakened state, collapsed beneath her dropping them both to the ground surrounded by over a dozen Peacekeepers.

“Oh!” she cried out dramatically, hurrying to help the dazed young man to his feet. “I'm so sorry, Peeta. These ridiculous shoes have been giving me trouble all day but they're worth it for how well they complement the outfit. Let me just sort out your collar for you.”

Leaning in closely she pressed her lips against his ear as he hands made a show of fussing with the pristine collar of his own interview outfit, his one a mixture of black and grey.

“They're going to bomb Thirteen after your interview,” she hissed as quickly as she could whilst being careful not to be heard by the Peacekeepers surrounding both of them. “Warn them, if you can. I would have warned them myself but they wouldn't believe me…”

Stepping back she ran her hands down the lapels of his jacket.

“There. All fixed,” she announced grandly. “It was lovely seeing you again, Peeta. Take care.”

Without hesitating she turned away from him and, after scooping down to pick up the shoes she'd stumbled out of, continued on her journey through the Presidential Mansion. Her heart pounded in her chest, panic thrumming through her veins until she was safely ensconced in the limousine which would return her to the “safety” of the Tribute Centre.

She had done it.

Now it was up to him to pass the warning along to Katniss Everdeen.

~ * ~

The first thing she did when she entered the District Two apartment was to switch on the holo-projector in the main room, turning the sound up before dropping down onto the sofa.

There was Peeta, looking even worse on camera than he had in person.

 **“Tonight we've received reports of derailed trains, of granaries on fire and of a savage attack on the hydroelectric dam in District Five,”** he recited, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was reading from an auto-cue. **“I'm begging for restraint and decency.”**

Suddenly the image flickered, just as it had done the last time the a Rebels had interrupted a broadcast, and then the image of Peeta's gaunt face was replaced by what was unmistakably the back of Katniss Everdeen's head in front of an endless pile of rubble.

_“…coming to the tree? They strung up a man…”_

She didn't recognise the song but the voice was unmistakably that of Katniss herself.

 **“Katniss?”** Peeta gasped, almost as if he were in pain as his image returned briefly before the screen showed what Enobaria assumed were the ruins of District Twelve once more.

_“…murdered three. Strange things did happen there…”_

**“Katniss, are you there?”** Peeta called out weakly, his eyes finding the camera for the first time as his image returned. He looked so lost and yet so hopeful. **“Katniss?”**

The image settled, displaying his face as he glanced fearfully at something off camera.

 **“Peeta, please continue,”** Caesar requested, his own voice tight with obvious tension. She guessed that he too feared the punishment he would receive should things not play out the way that the President wanted them to. **“You were telling us about these savage attacks.”**

 **“Yeah…”** Peeta sighed, visibly steeling himself before returning his gaze to the auto-cue just off camera. **“The attack on the dam was a callous and inhuman act of destruction.”**

“Come on, Peeta…” she whispered just as the image was interrupted yet again, the Rebels determined to get their footage through to the Capitol and, more importantly, to Peeta.

_“...where a dead man called out, for his love to flee…”_

**“Think about it,”** Peeta demanded when his image returned, leaning forwards as he went off script, directing his words to the camera. **“How will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this. No one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol. Not in any of the Districts.”**

His face dropped and in an instant she knew that this was it, this was the moment that an eighteen year old boy would show more courage than anyone she had ever known.

Herself included.

**“They're coming, Katniss. They're going to kill everyone!”**

An arm appeared from nowhere, a Peacekeepers arm if the white sleeve was anything to go by, wrapping around his throat and pulling him backwards even as he continued to call out.

**“And in District Thirteen you'll be dead by morning!”**

A whine of electronic feedback blasted out of the speakers as the image of Peeta struggling against the arm restraining him was replaced by the Capitol seal on a bright red background.

He'd done it.

He'd passed on the information she'd been given.

Now she just had to hope it was worth it.

~ * ~

It was actually somewhat predictable when later on that evening the program she was half-watching as she ate a late night dinner was interrupted, this time for a promotional video featuring someone she genuinely considered to be a good friend, someone who had been forced to work the circuit alongside her due to the fascination the Capitol had in him.

The lights, which had been on a reduced setting ever since the Capitol had been forced to rely on emergency power following the attack on the damn, gave out completely plunging the room in to darkness but for the somewhat eerie light from the holo-projector itself.

 **“This is Finnick Odair. Winner of the 65 th Hunger Games. And I'm coming to you from District 13, alive and well.” **Contrary to his words she wouldn’t have described him as looking _“well”_ what with the amount of weight he’d lost and the way his voice shook. **“We've survived an assault from the Capitol. But I'm not here to give you recent news.”**

Setting down her cutlery she rose from her seat at the lonely table and made her way across to the corner sofa, dropping down into one of the many seats available to her.

 **“I’m here to give you the truth. Not the myths about a life of luxury. Not the lie about glory for your homeland. You can survive the arena but the moment you leave, you're a slave,”** Finnick continued on the holo-screen, burying his hands in the pockets of the thin jacket he wore. His next words caused her mouth to drop open in shock. **“President Snow used to sell me. Or my body, at least. I wasn't the only one. If a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them.”**

She couldn’t believe he was actually exposing the circuit in all its horrific glory.

 **“If you refuse, he kills someone you love,”** Finnick’s expression was one of sympathy, no doubt the faces of his fellow Victors who had attempted to refuse crossing his mind. Haymitch Abernathy, whose family were slaughtered due to his actions in the Arena even before he’d turned down Snow’s _“offer”_ to join the circuit. Johanna Mason, who had told the President to “fuck off” and who had lost everyone because of it. Countless others. **“To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewellery.”**

Every Victor on the circuit had a collection of “gifts” they were forced to keep and wear for their regulars, pieces of expensive jewellery or ridiculous clothing, particularly underwear.

 **“But I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets,”** Finnick announced, the pride in his voice making her smile ever so slightly as she thought of some of the things she had learned. She’d never intentionally tried to find out secrets and she knew countless things that would make people’s toes curl. She could only imagine what sort of things her friend knew. **“See, I know all the depravity, the deceit and the cruelty of the Capitol's pampered elite. But the biggest secrets are about our good President, Coriolanus Snow.”**

“Oh, shit…”

She couldn’t believe he was doing this, sharing the secrets of the man with the power of life and death over the woman he loved. Would he really risk Annie for the good of _the cause_?

Her attention was drawn away from the screen by the sound of glass smashing, coming from above and she knew instinctively that it had been the ceiling of the atrium of the Tribute Centre, designed to let in as much light as possible. Less than a second last a second crash was heard but by this time she was already rushing for the door of the apartment.

 **“Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it,”** Finnick pressed on, seemingly without hesitation. **“How, you may ask, did he do it? One word. Poison.”**

Reaching the door she pulled on the handle, wrenching her arm painfully when the door refused to budge despite the force she had used in her attempt to open it. Automatically she checked the latch beneath the handle and found it set to the ‘unlocked’ position.

“What…?”

She was just about able to hear the sounds of some sort of weapon being fired on the other side of the door and tried the handle once more, rattling the door as she desperately tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. Automatically she brought up her other hand and began pounding on the door, all the while pulling on the handle as she began to call out.

“Hello?! Is there someone out there?! What’s going on?!”

The only response she got came from the holo-projector as the promo continued to play.

 **“He stopped every mutiny before it even started. There are so many mysterious deaths to adversaries. Even to allies who were threats,”** Finnick’s voice echoed through the empty apartment as she fell silent, pressing her ear to the door in an attempt to hear what was going on. Everything seemed to have gone quiet on the other side of the door. **“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don't always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. Help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal. But he can't hide the scent of who he really is.”**

What was going on?

Why wouldn’t the door open?

Was this some sort of attack on the Victors?

 **“He kills without mercy. He rules with deception and fear,”** Finnick’s voice continued, drawing her away from the seemingly impenetrable door and back to the holo-projector. If whatever was going on inside the Tribute Centre was to do with the Rebels he gave nothing away, his voice remaining calm as he continued to share his secrets. **“His weapon of choice is the only thing suited to such a man. Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.”**

She flinched as the lights suddenly turned back on, the brightness dazzling her for the length of time it took or a different image to replace the familiar face of her friend on the screen.

Katniss Everdeen.

**“President Snow? President Snow. It's Katniss.”**

The young woman in question was shifting nervously where she stood, the camera focused in on her head and shoulders so that they couldn’t see who she was glancing towards.

 **“President Snow? President Snow, I need to speak with you. Are you there? President Snow, its Katniss. Can you hear me?”** she continued, no longer glancing away for reassurance but rather shifting around nervously. **“I need to speak with you. President Snow, its Katniss. President Snow, are you there? Can you hear me? President Snow...”**

 **“Miss Everdeen. What an honour,”** the familiar voice of President Snow was heard before the screen split in order to show Katniss on one side and their _illustrious leader_ on the other side. Neither looked particularly thrilled about the conversation they were about to have although Snow was smiling. **“I don't imagine you're calling to thank me for the roses.”**

A shudder ran up and down her spine as his laugh echoed around the room.

She hated that laugh…

 **“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the Games. I never asked to be the Mockingjay,”** Katniss announced, almost apologetically, in response as she shifted where she was stood. She looked so different with her hair loose about her shoulders, younger, less like the killing machine she was. **“Just wanted to save my sister. And keep Peeta alive.”**

President Snow grimaced ever so slightly, a movement only those familiar with his carefully controlled facial expression would have been able to pick up on. It was a signal that he wasn’t happy with what he was hearing but knew exactly how he was going to deal with it.

That did not bode well for any of them, let alone Katniss Everdeen…

 **“Please, just let him go and I will stop being the Mockingjay,”** she promised suddenly, impulsively and Enobaria could imagine the exclamations of horror going through the rebels watching this broadcast. **“I will disappear. You will never have to see me ever again.”**

 **“Miss Everdeen,”** President Snow chuckled, tilting his head in an imitation of innocence. **“You couldn't run from this any more than you could have run from the Games.”**

 **“Please. You've won,”** Katniss’s voice broke ever so slightly on what was obviously a painful admission for her. **“You've already beaten me. Release Peeta. And take me instead.”**

Quite predictably President Snow shook his head.

**“We're long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”**

**“Then tell me what to do,”** Katniss demanded softly and Enobaria couldn’t help but flinch, wondering how many young Victors had uttered those particular words to this man who had controlled all of their lives, desperate to keep their friends, their families and their Districts safe from his particular brand of wrath. **“I've always kept my promises, haven't I?”**

 **“You said you didn't want a war. And that's just what's happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was,”** he responded almost apathetically. **“And still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are. I know you can't see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen. I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”**

 **“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,”** Katniss admitted, the information she provided so carelessly taking Enobaria by surprise although it really shouldn’t have. Of course a man like President Snow would have doubted the love that the citizens of the Capitol had accepted without question. **“Haven't I at least done that?”**

 **“Miss Everdeen, it's the things we love most that destroy us,”** President Snow announced almost gravely although he obviously took great delight in each and every word. Katniss flinched, the colour beginning to drain from her youthful face. **“I want you to remember that I said that. Don't you think I know your friends are in the Tribute Centre?”**

So it _was_ the Rebels who she had heard on the other side of the door…

Katniss looked completely and utterly horrified.

President Snow on the other hand merely smirked, looking away from the camera.

**“Cut them off.”**

Both sides of the screen went black at the same moment as the power surging back on, the lights brightened to their usual level while other buildings which had been in darkness for hours began to shine outside the numerous windows on either side of the apartment.

It took her a couple of moments to hurry back towards the door, trying the handle once more only to find it was still well and truly locked. She heard the distant sounds of people moving around, orders being barked and then what sounded like a wince being operated.

She wanted to scream out for help once more but somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice warned her that it was hopeless, that even if they did respond to her voice and get the door open they were more likely to shoot her on sight than take her with them.

She was still trapped in the Capitol.

All she could hope for was that the Rebels managed to rescue whoever it was they came for.

~ * ~

They came for her early in the morning.

She was escorted under armed guard to the _Presidential Mansion_ where she was met by a member of the Cabinet who informed her, as though she hadn’t heard everything that had happened the night before, that the “ _security of the Tribute Centre had been breached_ ” and that “ _the President order for her to be relocated to the Presidential Mansion for her safety._ ”

Somehow she managed to keep her mask in place as she was escorted to her new rooms.

Being trapped in the Capitol was bad enough when she was being kept in the Tribute Centre between appointments and appearances but now that she was to be kept here, in the building where President Snow himself lived? That was infinitely worse.

She would be at his mercy night and day.

In all her time on the circuit she’d only been called on to entertain the President a grand total of three times, all of which she would sooner block from her memory than remember.

There were clients who liked to pretend she was there willingly.

There were some who got off on the fact that she had no choice.

There were others who actively delighted in putting her through hell.

He was one of the latter.

She had heard some of the things which his favourite Victor, Persephone Waters, had been put through from Gloss and Cashmere when the three of them had been able to talk freely.

“What did they want in the Tribute Centre?” she dared to enquire of the Peacekeeper who had been charged with escorting her to her new rooms. He was young, painfully so. “Only I wouldn’t have thought there would have been anything of strategic value there…”

“Some of the Victors,” the Peacekeeper answered without hesitation, taken in by her display of innocence. “Peeta Mellark, obviously, but also Johanna Mason and Annie Cresta.”

No doubt it had been Peeta that they were really after although she guessed Finnick had probably negotiated Annie’s rescue as part of his agreement to participate in the fight.

Johanna Mason was a bit of a surprise though.

“Were any of the others taken?” she enquired, slipping into the room when it was indicated to her. She found herself in a large suite of rooms. “The Rebels didn’t target anyone else?”

Implying that it had been a kidnapping rather than a rescue was a piece of genius, if she did say so herself, as the young Peacekeeper was completely taken in by her act of loyalty.

“No. The other Victors were being kept in their District apartments,” the Peacekeeper answered without even pausing to think about it. “They were the only three being kept down in the sub-levels and that’s where they went as soon as they infiltrated the building.”

Her belongings were carried in by a couple of Avoxes who set about swiftly unpacking whilst she made a point of inspecting the suite of rooms, discretely trying to figure out where the monitoring devices had been hidden. It didn't take them long to get everything transferred from the travelling cases to the ornate wardrobe and matching chest of drawers, the silent slaves scurrying out of the room as quickly as they could while the Peacekeeper lingered.

“Your meals will be brought to you on a tray,” he announced calmly, offering her an apologetic shrug. “Just until everything calms down. And you're to stay inside your rooms. Same reason, you understand? Wouldn't want the Rebels getting hold of you…”

“No…” she murmured even as he ducked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a surprisingly soft thud for such a heavy door. “We wouldn't want that, would we?”

A loud ‘click’ warned her that the door had been locked from the other side.

“…what have you got yourself into now, Buh?”

~ * ~

Three days later the attack on the Capitol began.

~ * ~

It was difficult to track what was really going on outside the walls of the Presidential Mansion when all she had to go on were the obviously faked Capitol Reports and the blatantly scripted Rebel Broadcasts. Both sides claimed to be winning, to be driving back the opposing force with their superior numbers of loyal troops ready to die for the cause.

All she knew for certain from her decorative café was that the bombs were getting closer.

Katniss Everdeen was in the Capitol. That much was to be expected. What she hadn't expected was to see Finnick and Gloss fighting alongside her while Peeta and some unfamiliar soldiers brought up the rear. Finnick maybe but Gloss? Gloss was…Gloss…

And then came the report she had been dreading.

 **“Good afternoon. I'm Caesar Flickerman, here with our continuing coverage of the defence of the Capitol,”** the usually chipper host of the Hunger Games announced in an unusually serious tone of voice. His blinding smile was oddly absent as well. **“Today, as our Peacekeepers valiantly hold off the Rebels, our story takes a surprising twist.”**

On the screen an image was suddenly shown, the camera zooming in on a group of people running away from what appeared to be a river of black liquid. Oil, maybe?

**“Katniss Everdeen, our once favourite daughter, has infiltrated the city with some of the Victors whose names are all too familiar. Finnick Odair, Gloss Peridotte and Peeta Mellark.”**

She found herself leaning forwards, a hand pressed to her mouth which in turn pressed the insides of her lips against the sharp pints of her teeth as she watched Peeta suddenly turn on Katniss, flinging her to the ground. Only Finnick's quick intervention saved her life.

 **“Hmm. Clearly some alliances don't last forever…”** Caesar murmured, not even bothering to feign concern as he usually would. **“Take a look at what happened just a moment ago when our Peacekeepers cornered Katniss Everdeen and her band of foolish Rebels. Whatever arrogance brought this treacherous girl back to us, you are about to witness a great victory not only for the Capitol but for Panem.”**

Once again the image on the screen shifted from Caesar to a building she was pretty sure she'd _entertained_ and client in not too long ago. Peacekeepers were shown approaching the building only to come under fire from Katniss Everdeen, if the report was to be believed.

And then, with the aid of a rocket launcher, the building was swiftly and mercilessly destroyed. For a long moment the camera stayed on the explosion, showing the change from the initial fireball to the endless cloud of smoke blocking out the falling masonry.

Caesar returned to the screen all too abruptly.

 **“So there you have it, Katniss Everdeen, the _‘Girl on Fire’_ , a girl who inspired so much violence seems to have met a violent end herself,”** he concluded rather coldly, his face set in a stony mask. **“Stay tuned for more information. Caesar Flickerman. Thank you.”**

She found herself blinking at the screen for a long time after it went blank.

Two more friends, good friends, lost to this nightmare.

Was it really worth it?

The pain…

The suffering…

The loss…

And then she thought, for the first time, of a world where the Hunger Games didn't exist. What would she have been if she hadn't been brainwashed into thinking that the glory of the Arena was the only way she could get her people to notice her? To remember her?

Would she have become a Peacekeeper as so many did in Two? But, no, if there were no Hunger Games then there would be no Peacekeepers, at least not like they had now.

Perhaps she would have allowed herself to fall in love with one of the boys at school, would have walked out with him, allowed him to court her and then married him? Had children with him? Children who wouldn't have grown up fearing the day they turned twelve…

Yes.

That was the answer to her questions.

Yes, it was more painful than any of them could have ever imagined but if they could bring around a world where peace was real and not a calculated lie from the Capitol then yes, every loss, every sacrifice, every friend lost to the cause was most definitely worth it.

…but that didn't make it hurt any less.

~ * ~

Wrapping herself up in her dressing gown Enobaria picked at the tray of food which had been brought for her where she lay curled up against the mountain of pillows on her bed. She had allowed herself to grieve openly for the first time given that there was no one to see her, not inside her gilded cage, not unless she counted the people monitoring the live feed.

Which she didn't.

So she had hugged a pillow to her chest and sobbed as loudly as she dared. For Brutus, for Mags. For Cashmere. For Gloss. For Finnick. And for all the others she'd known and lost.

She even wept for those she had actively had a hand in killing over the years.

“If only they could see their killing machine now…” she mumbled to herself, using the cuff of her dressing gowns sleeve to wipe the remnants of her tears from her face. “What a mess…”

Her stomach clenched painfully as the “Horn of Plenty” began to blast out from the holo-projector as it whirred to life, broadcasting the first in what would no doubt be a series of images just as they did during the Hunger Games to catalogue the losses for the day.

First up was a woman she semi-recognised as being a Capitol reporter, followed quickly by the faces of her camera crew and support team. She had always been so nice to the people she was interviewing, particularly in the initial few days after the conclusion of the Games.

A choked sob escaped her as first Gloss and then Finnick's handsome faces filled the screen. They'd used the stock photographs from the Quarter Quell, making it seem as though her friends had been lost to the Arena like all the rest but that was far from the truth.

Lastly the “Star-Crossed Lovers” of District Twelve appeared, one right after the other.

 **“So, Katniss Everdeen, a poor, unstable girl with nothing but a small talent with s bow and arrow is dead,”** President Snow announced as he appeared on the screen, reclining in a familiar chair with a familiar room as a carefully staged backdrop. His private office, a room that every Victor on the circuit dreaded bring summoned to. **“Not a thinker, not a leader. Simply a face plucked from the masses. Was she valuable? She was extremely valuable to your rebellion because you have no vision, no true leader among you. You call yourselves an alliance. But we saw what that means. Your soldiers are at each other's throats.”**

His voice was suddenly cut off and, oh, she could imagine how annoyed he would be about that but right then she was far too busy sitting upright on her bed as she took in the new face dominating the screen. She was an older woman with a severe haircut, the grey and white strands partially obscuring her face even as she gazed out towards the camera.

Behind her hung an entirely unfamiliar blue flag, one with a golden seal surrounded by stars.

 **“Good evening,”** she spoke calmly and clearly, pronouncing each and every word with barely a hint of emotion in her voice. **“For those of you who don't know me please, allow me to introduce myself. I am President Alma Coin, leader of the rebellion.”**

Huh…

So this was who had been making all the tough decisions on behalf of the rebels, choosing who lived and who died as they fought towards their ultimate goal. If it weren't for the cold look in her eyes, a look which could only be described as calculating, Enobaria would never have believed it but she knew instinctively that she was looking at another version of Snow.

President Coin would do _whatever_ was needed to emerge triumphant.

The question was would such sacrifices be deemed justified when all was said and done?

 **“I have interrupted a broadcast from your President in which he attempted to defame a brave young woman. A face picked from the masses, he called her. As if a leader, a true leader, could be anything less,”** President Coin continued firmly, her voice just beginning to tremble with apparent emotion although Enobaria could easily see through it for the lie it was. This woman would definitely have to try a lot harder to convince someone whose very survival had relied on the ability to lie seamlessly for so many years. **“I had the privilege of knowing a small-town girl from the Seam in District Twelve who survived the Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell and rose up and turned a nation of slaves into an army!”**

The fact that this was a carefully scripted performance was painfully obvious.

 **“Dead or alive, Katniss Everdeen _will_ remain the face of this revolution,”** Coin vowed, her voice cracking unrealistically as she forced tears to pool in her cold grey eyes. It was almost painful to watch but more painful to admit that most people, particularly Capitol citizens, would be completely taken in by this rather pitiful performance. **“She _will not_ have died for nothing. Her vision and ours will be realised. A free Panem with self-determination for all. And, in her memory, we will all find the strength to rid Panem of its oppressors.” **

“I bet you didn't give two shits about her,” Enobaria snorted to herself, rising from the bed in order to grab a tumbler of whiskey from the tray in the far corner of her room. “If you want to play this game you'll need to brush up on your acting skills. That was pathetic.”

**“Thank you. And be safe.”**

Apparently politicians were liars no matter where they called home. Who knew?

~ * ~

It took her a good ten minutes to compose herself the following morning when Caesar Flickerman appeared on her screen apologising for the erroneous report he had given in regards to the demise of Katniss Everdeen and her _“merry band of rebels”_ who had, in fact, survived the Peacekeeper attack on the building they'd been reported to be in. How, no one knew, but all she cared about was the fact that her friends were still alive and that Caesar had been made to look incompetent, that the Capitol had been made to look incompetent.

She was still giggling when they began broadcasting **“WANTED”** posters for all of them, including the unfamiliar faces of the District Thirteen Rebels who's images had been taken from security footage and therefore weren't the best pictures ever to grace the screen.

One of them had been identified, however, and that was a bit of a shock. **“WANTED – MIKHAIL WARRINGTON – DISTRICT EIGHT”** had been embossed over the bottom of the picture and it wasn't until she pictured him covered in blood and bandages that she recognised him as the young man they were calling “the hero of District Eight.”

She hadn't seen all of the broadcasts he was reported to have appeared in, most of them not reaching the Capitol, but she had seen his appearances in the most recent ones.

As the morning dragged by she found herself completely forgotten, no one bringing her usual trays of food and water or simply stopping by to “check up on her.” That was unusual, although the door was still locked when she dared to try it, and she moved to the window.

In the distance she could see plumes of black smoke, no doubt created by explosions of some kind and she suspected that had she been able to open the window she would have heard the staccato sounds of small-arms fire, bullets being traded back and forth.

However what truly drew her attention were the Peacekeepers working to set up barricades a couple of metres in front of the main gates, armed to the teeth and already clashing with terrified Capitol citizens. There weren't only foot soldiers, either, there were armoured vehicles and even a couple of canons all arranged so as to defend the Presidential Mansion.

Huh.

“Looks like things are going to be over sooner rather than later,” she murmured to herself, tucking her hair behind her ears before tying the sash of her dressing gown. “About time…”

 **“To all Capitol citizens more than a half mile outside the city centre,”** President Snow’s voice drew her gaze back to the holo-projector although she continued to lean against the cool glass of the window. It looked like it would snow soon. **“I am announcing a mandatory evacuation. Come to the Mansion. I am promising you shelter and sanctuary. All refugees, come to my home, and there you will be provided with food, medicine, safety for your children and you will have my solemn oath to protect typos until my dying breath.”**

She snorted loudly.

“Bullshit!” she scoffed, if only to herself. “You just want a nice thick wall of human shields…”

 **“Our enemy is not like us. They do not share our values,”** President Snow continued, his voice tinged with faked regret and sympathy. **“They have never known our comfort and our sophistication. And they despise us for it. Make no mistake – they are not coming to liberate us. They are coming to destroy our way of life. They are coming to bury us.”**

“Pretty sure they despise you for killing their children for sport and making their lives as miserable as physically possible,” she snorted, turned back to the window and taking the brightly coloured clothes of the refugees already surging towards the Mansion. “Idiots.”

So this was it.

The final stand of President Snow.

Was this really how she wanted to go out?

Was this the final act she wanted to be remembered for?

Waiting in her gilded cage for death to come to her?

No.

She was Enobaria Hume, Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games, proud citizen of District Two and she would be _damned_ if she'd go out like this – killed by a stray bomb during the final battle or, worse, by a Rebel firing squad following the Capitol’s inevitable surrender.

No one would fight for her. Why would they when they never had before?

She would have to fight for herself.

Crossing to the wardrobes she searched through for something appropriate to wear, throwing the ridiculous dresses out onto the floor in her haste to look beyond them. Eventually she managed to put something together which she gave her enough protection and movement despite being the most ridiculous colour combination she'd ever seen.

The skin-tight trousers were a garish pink colour while the long top with a stupid asymmetrical hemline was a painful lime green. Her boots were brown, the design similar to the ones she'd worn during the Tribute Parade, the thick belt she had found was a deep violet colour and the multi-layered jacket was a mixtures of reds, oranges and yellows.

All in all she looked ridiculous but she was warm and she could move without restriction.

Pulling her hair back into a painfully tight ponytail she set about inspecting the lock on the door for what felt like the hundredth time, searching for any sign of weakness and found none. Hopefully those monitoring the security feed from her room were too busy with everything else that was going on to worry about her blatantly suspicious actions.

Giving up on the door she crossed to the window, finding it locked as well but a close look proved that the glass was only reinforced to protect against outside threats, not inside. Unfortunately the window was panelled meaning that even if she did manage to break the glass there would still be the crossbars and supports to deal with so instead she focused on the lock, using her heavy duty nail file as a weapon against the innocuous looking lock.

It wouldn't budge.

However it was at this point, just as she was starting to get frustrated, that she noticed something rather important. Rather than being a modern style of window like every other building in the Capitol theirs was a traditional sash style window, traditional and vulnerable.

Using the handle of her nail file she tapped on the side panels of the window, quickly figuring out which one was hollow, and then set about figuring out a way to open it up. She ended up using a diamond encrusted stiletto heel like a hammer, chipping away at the painted wood until eventually she was able to expose the compartment hidden within.

It was back to the nail file, however, when it came to cutting the chords hidden inside.

After what felt like an age she had finally managed to cut through both of the chords, the heavy weights attached to them clunking inside the hollow panel as they fell, and then the top section of the window copied them. The lock sheared off, parts flying wildly into the room, and then finally she had her way out of the room she had been trapped inside of.

“They have _definitely_ stopped monitoring the live feed…” she muttered to herself as she dragged the dressing table over to stand on before contorting her body out through the open section at the top of the large window, her feet eventually coming to rest on the exterior windowsill. “Now…try going along or try going up? Decisions…decisions…”

Reaching up experimentally she found that her hands just reached the decorative ledge which ran the full length of the building a couple of feet below the top of the high wall.

“Up,” she eventually nodded to herself, grimacing as a particularly strong gust of wind shook her body where it was stood. She was definitely glad of the fact that she'd put on a jacket. “Ok, Buh, you can do this…just…just don't look down…don't look down…”

Pulling herself up with her arms she wedged her feet against the wall on either side of the window before eventually managing to stand on top of the thick panes of glass. Keeping one hand on the decorative she reached up with the other to grasp hold of the end of the wall, holding on as best as she could as she brought one foot up to rest on the narrow ledge on top of the window, pushing her body upwards after only a moment’s hesitation.

“Nearly there…”

She was now able to wrap both of her arms up and over the top of the wall, at which point she was relieved to find that the roof wasn't energy flat and that in fact the top part of the wall acting like a barrier around the flat roof, giving her something firm to hold onto.

Gritting her teeth she pushed off from the narrow ledge on top of the window, pulling herself upwards with all her might as her feet scrambled to find any sort of purchase before they finally made contact with the decorative ledge. This was high enough that she was then able to basically flop over the top of the wall and land on the sunken roof of the building.

Flopping over onto her back she sucked in a couple of lungfuls of air before forcing herself to get to her feet, just as an explosion came from significantly closer than before. The crowd gathering in front for eh main gates let out a terrified scream but she ignored them, focused on finding a way back into the building she had just fought so hard to escape from.

Apparently no one had thought to lock the roof hatch and so she made it back inside with significantly less fuss, finding herself on what was obviously the servants level. A cart of delicate cutlery had been abandoned in the corridor and, after testing some of the knives, she selected a handful of them and set about securing them into her belt and her boots.

They weren't great but they were definitely better than nothing.

Hurrying down the main stairs onto the upper level of the mansion she found complete and utter chaos, officials and servants and Peacekeepers rushing about mindlessly as they reacted poorly to the unprecedented advance of the Rebels. This meant she was able to slip through without being noticed, her Capitol clothes actually working in her favour as she hurting down the next flight of stairs to the main level where her chosen target awaited her.

The private office of President Coriolanus Snow.

Down on this level it was more Peacekeepers than officials, all of them hurrying to reinforce the building as more explosions sounded and bullets began impacting the brickwork. Again this worked in her favour and she was pretty much ignored until she was only a couple of doors away from her destination, at which point they recognised her as a threat.

“Is that…?”

“It is…Enobaria! Stop, now, or…or we will open fire!”

Offering them a feral grin in response she ducked and rolled across the floor, pulling a couple of knives from her belt as she came up underneath their rifles and slashed both their throats open. The next Peacekeeper to challenge her actually managed to get a couple of shots off before she flung the unbalanced knife towards him, striking him in the arm.

This distracted him long enough for her to get in close enough to slip his throat.

Five more Peacekeepers tried and failed to stop her advance, resulting in her losing four of the knives she'd grabbed, but eventually she kicked open the heavy wooden door and found herself in the same room as the man she and so many others hated beyond all reason.

He had two Peacekeepers with him but they were taken out with ease, her hands moving with perfect synchronisation as she flung the two knives she held towards their necks.

That left her with only one knife, however if she was really desperate she could grab one of their untouched rifles easily enough from their crumpled bodies. The unfamiliar weapons didn't look all that hard to use and at such a close range there'd be no aiming involved.

A huge explosion sounded from outside but neither of them reacted to it.

“Enobaria, my dear, I see you've declared a new side,” President Snow murmured as though he were amused by her actions as he reclined back in his chair. “How disappointing…”

“Shut up!” she snapped the words with relish, rounding the desk in a couple of strides so that she could drop down into his lap and press the knife against his jugular. “You've lost.”

“Believe me, I am well aware of that fact,” he responded calmly, not even raising his arms from where they rest against the arms of the chair. A second, even louder explosion sounded, this one seeking the shake the very building around them. “But at what cost?”

“I should kill you for everything you've done…”

“Why don't you, then?”

Why didn't she?

She had a knife to his throat.

It would be easy to add him to the list of those she'd killed that day.

And yet…

“Because you don't deserve the mercy of a quick death.”

It didn't take long for the rebel soldiers to storm the building, most of the Peacekeepers sure ding after that last explosion, and all too soon she heard the tell-tale sound of a dozen or so soldiers pouring into the room behind where she still sat on his lap.

For the second time that day people were confused to see her.

“Is that…?”

“It is…”

Under any other circumstances she'd have laughed at hearing the same words coming out of these new arrivals mouths, their confusion evident in their tone. She saw them moving in her peripheral vision, surrounding the table and chair where she and President Snow sat.

“She's got a knife on him…”

“…I thought she was a supporter of his?”

“Apparently not…”

With a flick of her wrist, just enough to draw the tiniest amount of blood from his neck she rose to her feet in one fluid motion, holding her hands above her head as their rifles shifted so that half were aimed towards President Snow whilst the other half followed her.

Turning on the spot she made a show of dropping the knife onto the desk.

“He's all yours…”

~ * ~

It wasn't until a week or so later that she learned the reason she wasn't arrested alongside President Snow that day, learned of the carefully worded agreement Katniss had entered into with the leaders of the Rebellion which stated that all Victors were to be spared.

She and the other surviving Victors, of which there were both more and less than she had expected, had been reunited when they were all gathered in one of the largest conference rooms in the Presidential Mansion. None of them had survived the rebellion unscathed.

Most had been kept in the Tribute Centre being systematically tortured for information they simply didn't possess and some, the older Victors, had been executed early on when their “usefulness” had come to an end. Some would never recover from the injuries they had suffered, their lives forever changed because of the torture they had been put through.

Some had fought for the Rebels and were heralded as heroes because of it, particularly Katniss and Finnick, both of whom had been badly injured during the assault on the Capitol.

She had witnessed some tearful reunions, Finnick and Annie’s was pretty predictable, Gloss and Persephone's was not as not only had their secret relationship actually remained a secret but in the time since the last Games she had carried and given birth to a child.

“Looking pretty good for a _dead man_ , Finnick,” she commented as she arrived at conference room, winking towards where the handsome young Victor in question was being pushed around in a wheelchair by Annie. She received a playful smirk in response. “You too, Gloss.”

“If you would all please take your seats,” President Alma Coin, the leader of District Thirteen called out as she entered the room, gesturing to the name cards which had been put out along the rows of tables which all faced towards where she moved to stand. “I believe we’re just waiting on a couple of late arrivals and then we’ll get started. Also, please help yourself to refreshments. I’m sure some of you are quite tired after your journey from Thirteen.”

Moving along the front row of tables she took her seat between Nerilla and Beetee. Of the seven District Two Victors who had been alive prior to the 75th Hunger Games only four remained. Brutus had fallen inside the Arena and Lyme had fallen during the assault on the Capitol, fighting on the side of the Rebels. Ivory had been executed by Snow.

The door swung open admitting none other than Katniss Everdeen.

“…what’s this?”

“The remaining Victors,” Coin answered calmly. “Would you join us?”

For a long moment the only sounds in the room were of people taking their seats.

“I have invited you all here for several reasons but first I have an announcement,” she continued, standing rigidly at the front of the room like a teacher surveying their classroom. “I have taken the burden and the honour of declaring myself interim President of Panem.”

“Interim?” Haymitch piped up from where he was sat cradling a large cup of strong black coffee at the back of the room. “Exactly how long is that interim?”

“We have no way of knowing for certain but it's clear that people are far too emotional right now to make a rational decision. We'll plan an election when the time is right,” President Coin explained quickly, blatantly trying to move the subject towards the subject of conversation she wanted to focus on. “But I have called you here for a far more important vote. A symbolic vote. This afternoon we will execute Snow. Hundreds of his accomplices also await their deaths. Capitol officials…Peacekeepers…Torturers…Gamemakers…”

She wasn’t the only to flinch.

“But the danger is, once we begin, the Rebels will not stop calling for retribution. Thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy,” the emotionless woman pressed on firmly. “So I offer an alternative plan. Majority of twelve may approve it. No one may abstain. The proposal is this. In lieu of these barbaric executions we hold a symbolic Hunger Games.”

Silence.

Coffee cups were placed down onto the tables as people stared at her in complete shock.

Johanna let out a sharp giggle.

“You want to have another Hunger Games?” she asked, still giggling in obvious disbelief as she leaned forwards in her chair. “With the Capitol’s children?”

“You’re joking…”

Peeta Mellark sounded almost disgusted by the very suggestion.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Is this Plutarch’s idea?” Haymitch demanded.

“It was mine. It balances the need for revenge with the least loss of human life,” Coin responded calmly. She was obviously confused as to why they weren’t all jumping at the chance to give the Capitol a taste of their own medicine. “You may cast your votes.”

“No,” Peeta jumped in from the back of the room even though Coin had silently indicated for the surviving Victors from District One to go first. “No, obviously not. This is crazy.”

“Those children aren't the guilty ones,” Persephone began, her voice gaining strength as Coin turned her gaze on the Victor from District One. “Those children have committed no crimes. If we do this then we are no better than the people who ruined our lives. I vote no.”

“I’m with Persephone,” Gloss murmured, reaching out to take the young woman’s hand in his own. “We fought to stop he Games, not to use them for our own purpose.”

“I say yes,” Obsidian, the third and final surviving Victor from District One announced gruffly, rubbing a hand over his beard. “For all the Tributes I've failed over the years"

“It’s no worse than…than what they deserve…” Kol murmured, his eyes still every bit as blank as they had been the last time she’d seen him although now he had a twitch and an uncontrollable stutter to go along with it. “I…I…I vote yes to the C-Capitol Games.”

“I vote yes,” Gannicus announced firmly, his hand rubbing idly at his thighs which were trembling uncontrollably. “It's the only way they'll truly understand our pain and suffering.”

Nerilla nodded once, sharply.

“I stand with Gannicus and Kol.”

“So do I,” Enobaria agreed when it was her turn to speak. “Let them have a taste of it.”

Peeta interrupted once more,

“You guys, this way of thinking it what started these uprisings.”

“No,” Beetee argued firmly. “We need to stop viewing each other as enemies.”

“H-H-Hasn't there b-b-been enough k-k-killing?” Atam, the only other surviving Victor of District Three asked nervously, pulling at his own hair. “I-I-I vote n-n-no.”

Annie’s answer, when it finally came was short and to the point.

“No.”

Beside her Finnick grimaced and shook his head, reaching out to place his hand over her stomach which had just begun to swell beneath her clothing due to her pregnancy.

“I fought to create a better world,” he murmured. “Not just change the victims. I vote no.”

“I'm sorry, Annie, Finnick,” Ilythia, the petite blonde Victor from District Four sighed sadly, glancing towards her friends. “But they need to suffer as we have suffered. I vote yes.”

“Is this really how we want our first acts in the new Panem to be remembered?” Sykes enquired softly in his lilting accent indicative of District Four. “I vote no. Definitely no.”

“No,” Bluebell, from District Five murmured firmly from her place in the second row of tables. “Killing children is wrong no matter whose children they might be.”

Rhett, the only surviving Victor from District Six who was as addicted to Morphlings as the others had been could only nod in response to the unasked question, unable to speak.

“I think it's more than fair, Snow’s got a granddaughter,” Johanna piped up when it was finally her turn to speak, still smiling somewhat madly across at Coin. “I say yes.”

“I vote yes,” Summer, also of District Seven agreed hesitantly. “As long as it is the only one, mind you, to teach them a lesson. I won’t vote for a new version of the Hunger Games.”

Coin nodded silently in response to the youthful looking Victors conditions.

“No,” Phoebe muttered firmly, glaring at the two women from her District who had voted yes. “Children should never be made to suffer for the crimes committed by their parents.”

“Sykes' right,” Cissy mumbled. “I don't want to be remembered this way. I vote no.”

Lowell, winner of the 73rd Hunger Games for District Ten scoffed loudly.

“They never cared when it was us fighting for our lives,” he muttered. “Yes. I vote yes.”

“Ten in favour,” Coin announced, her gaze locking with Katniss’s even as the young woman sat frozen in her chair at the back of the room. “Eleven against. Katniss, what is your vote?”

“I get to kill Snow?” Katniss demanded emotionlessly in response.

“I expected no less of you.”

“Then I vote yes,” Katniss finally cast her vote, her voice even more gravelly than usual as she struggled to contain her emotions. Enobaria could understand why she was struggling having learned of the younger Everdeen girls death in the final bombings. “For Prim.”

“Haymitch?” Coin murmured softly. “It is now up to you to cast the deciding vote.”

Silence stretched on for a long while before Haymitch suddenly sighed deeply.

“I'm with the Mockingjay.”

“That carries the vote. Excellent,” Coin murmured, sounding almost smug as she nodded towards a young man in a drab grey uniform who had been hovering by the door keeping track of the various votes. “We'll announce the games tonight after the execution.”

“Well it's bound to be quite the show…”

~ * ~

As with the meeting earlier that day none of the Victors were permitted to be excused from the execution, each of them expected to represent their various Districts with pride and honour at the _“important historical event.”_ No one seemed to care that several of their minds were in a fragile state, that witnessing another death might be too much for them.

It was all about the spectacle.

By unspoken agreement Enobaria and Nerilla had placed themselves on either side of Kol who had already begun trembling, gazing off in the wrong direction before the rhythmic drumming had even started. Gannicus and several of the others with _“physical impairments”_ had been given chairs to sit upon and were lined up in front of those who had to stand.

As one they turned to watch Katniss, dressed in her Mockingjay armour for what would supposedly be the last time, as she made her way along the _Avenue of the Tributes_ on foot, followed by a seemingly impossible number of men and women who had fought beside her.

The stands were filled to bursting with a mixture of wounded Rebels and Capitol subjects who had managed to survive the siege. They were easily identifiable by the bright colours they wore although each and every one of them appeared to be sombre and subdued.

Above them President Coin strode forwards to take her place to watch the final approach.

None of the gathered Victors said anything as Katniss came to a halt between the two groups of Victors, their attention split between their new President and the monster she had overthrown. Coin was dressed all in light grey, from the cape she wore to protect her from the cold breeze to the high heeled boots she was using to boost her diminutive height. She looked every bit the soldier. Snow on the other hand looked like he was ready to attend a dinner party rather than a prisoner facing his own execution. He wore a crisp white shirt, smart black trousers and an expensive looking black dinner jacket. His shoes had been polished until they gleamed and he'd even been permitted to wear a rose in his buttonhole.

 **“Welcome…”** Coin called out grandly, her voice amplified by the hidden microphones. She spread her arms wide and forced a smile to appear on her cold face. **“…to the new Panem.”**

Enobaria was pretty certain she wasn't the only one who didn't trust this woman they had found themselves answering to, not with the alarming number of similarities between her and the former President they were gathered to see executed for his crimes against Panem.

 **“Today, on the Avenue of the Tributes all of Panem, a free Panem, will watch more than a mere spectacle. We are gathered to witness a historic moment of justice,”** Coin continued, the carefully planned words coming out somewhat robotically despite the emphasis she put on the important sections. **“Today, the greatest friend to the revolution will fire the shot to end all wars. May her arrow signify the end of tyranny and the beginning of a new era.”**

_Greatest friend of the revolution will fire the shot to end all wars?_

If that wasn't a carefully crafted line of Plutarch Heavensbee's then she would kick herself.

 **“Mockingjay,”** Coin called out, spreading her arms wide as she continued to speak, her voice getting slower and slower. **“May your aim be as true as your heart is pure.”**

There was complete and utter silence as they all watched Katniss draw and arrow from the quiver on her back and take carefully aim, her heavily made up eyes locking with Snow’s.

For a long moment after that, however, nothing happened.

When she finally did let her arrow fly it took a route none of them expected, the young woman having altered aim at the last possible moment so that the deadly projectile buried itself deep into President Alma Coin’s heart, killing her instantly. Chaos erupted as the woman's body fell off of the higher level, striking the ground with a sickening thud.

Snow began to laugh madly, blood dripping from his lips as people swarmed around him intent on carrying out the sentence their precious Mockingjay had just failed to complete.

Only one of the Victors moved in to join the chaos, Johanna Mason darting forwards with a blade glinting in her hand and Enobaria was pretty sure that Snow would be dead the second she finally made it through the crowd surrounding him. Peeta had, predictably, moved to confront Katniss. He had taken something from her before she could swallow it, looking completely and utterly horrified as he watched her get dragged away by soldiers.

Enobaria found herself grinning unexpectedly.

It was over.

Snow was as good as dead.

Coin, unexpectedly, was also dead.

Panem was free of the Hunger Games once and for all and as much as she would have loved to see the Capitol get a taste of it's own medicine she could also understand why so many of them had voted against it. After all, weren't you meant to learn from the past, not repeat it?

It was over.

“We can go home…”

 

**~ EPILOGUE ~**

As with all of the Victors the life of Enobaria Hume was much recorded and documented both before the Revolution and after it, the people of Panem still as fascinated with the people who had survived the horrors of the Hunger Games as they had ever been.

She had returned to District Two following the trial of Katniss Everdeen along with many other survivors from the District including her fellow Victors. Kol, sadly, took his own life not long after returning home, unable to cope with the nightmares he suffered from. Gannicus and Nerilla hung on alongside her and together they transformed the Victors Village, left remarkably untouched by the war, into a safe haven for the displaced persons of Panem.

It was almost like a penance for the lives she had taken, giving back to those in need. They set up an orphanage to replace the community home which had been destroyed, a school for children and another for adults looking to learn new skills and a hospital, offering free medical care for those in need who previously would have been forced to go without.

Their actions were much respected, not only by those who utilised their facilities, but by those in the Capitol who were in charge of remodelling Panem into a better image.

The new breed of Peacekeeper were still trained in District Two although now the candidates came from all over the country, eager to keep the peace as the name of the organisation suggested rather than simply punish people for trying to survive. They also welcomed Peacekeepers from the old regime who were willing to learn. Under the new rules Peacekeepers were held accountable for their actions no matter what rank they had achieved in their career, significantly improving their performance and reputation.

It was through this that Enobaria first met the man she would fall in love with.

Gale Hawthorne, formerly of District Twelve, now one of the men chosen by the _New Government of Panem_ , headed by President Paylor, to oversee the aforementioned remodelling the Peacekeepers. It was Gale who pressed for accountability and in an interview many years later he admitted that his own guilt, brought on by a lack of accountability regarding a bomb he helped design for the Rebels, which had made him determined to ensure that no one would get a _“free pass”_ in regards to their behaviour.

Their relationship seemed to take them by surprise as much as it did everyone else, going from acquaintances to friends to lovers to life partners so seamlessly it was almost missed.

They never married, however, but were blessed with four children, eighteen grandchildren and seven grandchildren before they passed away peacefully in their sleep. Enobaria when she was eighty-nine, Gale when he was ninety-four after “too many” years as a widower.

However despite being credited with aiding in the rebirth of District Two the thing which Enobaria was always the most proud of was the fact that her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren grew up knowing that they were important, that they were wanted.

That they would be remembered.

 

**The End.**

 

 **A/N** So much for my _“simple three chapter idea that I needed to get out of my system.”_ LOL! Regarding some of the canon divergences and fix-it's which were present but not necessarily explained in great detail – they shall be covered in my other stories in this series so I didn't want to give too much away. Have to leave some things as a surprise. Did you really think I was going to let Finnick die? Nope. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments welcome as always. X


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